May 27, 2025. 8:30 PM.
Karen was here to visit and drop off her recycle items.
Will was in Robin's old room, at the back of the house. It's a nice room with mostly windows, and now used for Terri's crafts, and any projects that we have going on. Will was out there talking to Karen, and making more limb lines for fishing. The table was covered with fishing line, paracord, sinkers, and hooks.
Terri and I were out there with them to see what was going on, and just hear them talking. When the population goes from five to three in a house, you don't want to miss anything.
Rain started back up, and this time it was heavy. The gutters quickly filled, and overflowed. This caused some aggravation for me, because I had cleared them thirty minutes ago, as it got dark.
Karen heard something, and said, "What's that noise?" Will replied, "That's the wind." Then we heard the tornado siren.
Nashville weather interrupted TV shows, with updates, and warnings. This lasted for twenty minutes or so. Our neighborhood was already quiet. The storm had passed.
I took a screenshot of the radar at 8:30. The blue dot is our house.
No damage. The worst of it must have stayed a few hundred feet off the ground.
We visited awhile longer, and talked about the fish hooks, weights and paracord on the table. We could have all looked like heavy metal hard rockers if the fish hooks got up in the air. That could have been awful.
The storm came and went quickly. We never moved.
It reminded me of a straight line wind years ago in Mount Vernon. Springtime, maybe 1990? Mom and dad were adding a room on the North end of the house. The roof and walls were up, but no door, or windows yet. Dad was in his wheel chair, and we were out there.
A storm was coming. Like most storms, the wind and the rain was from the south and west. Our worst weather comes up from from Alabama.
We got caught in the new room. There was not enough time to get all the way inside. We huddled close to the brick wall at the end of the house. We were mostly out of the wind and rain. We watched the Maple trees dance. Limbs bent and swayed like the trees were trying to touch their toes.
In the back yard, away from the house, was a stack of firewood. It was about four feet high, and fifteen or so feet long.
When it got still, and the worst of the storm was gone, we came out and looked around. No trees were down, but small limbs and leaves were everywhere.
The firewood was scattered on the ground. The wind blew it over.
These moments remind us to be thankful, and grateful that most storms pass quickly.