Thunder & Lightning

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Some of you may have heard or read about the tornadoes that swept through the DFW area last night.  I actually love severe weather, and every spring here brings the atmospheric instability needed to fire off huge thunderstorms.  Severe weather season tends to begin around the first of March when it starts warming up enough to fuel the storms, and continues until the middle of May when it gets so hot that the storms are choked off.

This year has been remarkably quiet.  In fact my wife and I were discussing it during the day yesterday--I'm not sure that there had even been a severe weather warning of any type up to that point for this Spring.  I was anxious to see how Maxwell would handle the storms.  Our previous boy, Bo, hated storms.  He'd dissolved into a whimpering, simmering, droolly mess.  We hadn't really had any big storms yet to evaluate Maxwell's response.

Well, that all changed last night.

A band of supercells developed well to the west of the Metroplex, and slowly inched their way eastward.  The storms were very large, and somewhat odd as each individual storm was tracking due east.  Usually the storms track southwest to northeast, while the front they fire on travels west to east.  Another oddity--the storms were moving very slowly.  Normally they move 40-50 mph which means they can surprise with their sheer speed, but also means they're quickly gone.  Not so yesterday; the storms were moving 10-15 mph.  This should have meant plenty of warning for those in the path, but instead it meant the storms were moving erratically, and when they struck, they struck with a vengeance and hung around.

There were reports of grapefruit sized hailstones near Mineral Wells, a small town to the northeast of DFW.  Then to the southwest the town of Granbury had two large residential neighborhoods obliterated by a large tornado.  That storm continued on, cycling up and down in strength, finally reaching the rural town of Cleburne TX. 

The news coverage I was watching to keep an eye on the storm (always prudent, even if the storms aren't directly threatening your area--as you will soon see), had a storm spotter on the phone in the Cleburne area.  It was dark by this time, an exceptionally dangerous time to be chasing storms because of the lack of visibility.  He was reporting on weather they had seen earlier in the evening, describing hail and damage they'd seen. 

Suddenly he exclaimed, "Oh my God, it's right there! Back up! Back up, back up, back up!"

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They had spotted a large wedge tornado that he estimated had a base more than a mile wide.  Wedge tornadoes are exceptionally powerful.  For example, the F5 tornado that leveled Moore OK in 1999 was a wedge, and areas of Moore were simply removed from the Earth, scoured down to the foundation slabs.

As this unfolded in the live coverage, the announcer broke in again and announced a new tornado warning issued for Arlington--where we live.  Now realize, Arlington is a mere suburb of Dallas and Fort Worth.  But we also have more than 375,000 residents--no small village.  In fact Arlington makes the top 50 largest cities in the United States. 

Here in the South the weather services are able to zoom in to street level, where they can superimpose city maps on their radar, and give out specific streets, blocks, etc. to help warn people.  When they zoomed in on the new Arlington tornado warning, the nearest cross streets they announced are about 100 yards away from my house!  At about that moment, the tornado sirens in the area went off.  If you've never heard a tornado siren, it's a sound that will send shivers up your spine. 

The kids were all in bed, most of them asleep.  I carried each of them into our most interior bathroom one by one, and herded Maxwell in with us.  Shut and locked the door.

And waited.

The lights flickered several times, but stayed on.

In about 10 minutes, not hearing any destructive noises, I ventured out and checked the TV again.  The storm had moved about 1/2 mile past us to the east.

As I cradled each child, carrying them back to bed, I contemplated what it might mean to lose them.  The pit of hopelessness that yawed open in front of me is a place I deeply, deeply hope I never visit.

My heart and soul go out to all those that experienced loss of life and property in the storms last night.

As far as Maxwell goes, he was completely unperturbed by the storm--in fact he wanted to go play in the rain.

Silly boy.