It’s fairly common knowledge that the South is known for its weather - good, bad or indifferent. The humidity. The impressive thunderstorms. The hurricanes. The tornadoes. The flash flooding. Etcetera.
Let’s just say - to be polite - that it’s one of our, arguably, many charms.
I’ll never forget the time last year, that we had snow one day and tornadoes the next. But I digress.
Last Saturday, we were due to have stormy weather. It never came. A few sprinkles here and there and some threatening skies ... but nothing. Yesterday morning, it was downright cold at our house. I wasn’t complaining ... but it was cold. We walked out of Church several hours later, only to find it hot - the air thick with humidity. A lethal combination here in the Deep South.
I remember thinking in that instant, “Well this isn’t good.” Little did I know just how right I would be.
We were on our way to visit Brian’s parents. The sky - black as pitch. As we neared a traffic light, the bottom fell. Good old Southern rain. You know the kind. We couldn’t see squat, and were trying to eat a bit of lunch - so I asked Brian, “Do you want to pull over for a minute?” He hadn’t responded, but as the light changed we heard a loud (loud) bang - like someone had hit the top of the car with a bat, full force. He and I exchanged a glance that read, “That was a big, big raindrop.” - before the bottom fell again. This time - ice.
Brian said, in a voice only he can do, “Well, we might have to pull over.”
How we crossed the highway and found a road and, luckily, found a bank with empty drive-thrus, I’ll never know. Or even want to remember. For sure - we couldn’t see and were going 90-to-nothing. All the while being hammered with what appeared to be baseball-sized hail.
The noise? Ah, my ears are still ringing. Trying to remain calm so the already-freaked 3-year old wouldn’t hyperventilate? Difficult.
We made it to the bank and pulled into a drive-thru lane - three other cars right behind us (we have such good ideas, you know). It hailed for a solid minute and a half - then abruptly stopped, and the sun came out as if nothing had happened.
That’s right.
We just sat there staring out the windshield - trying to process the last three minutes that had seemed like an eternity. We got out and examined our car - finding no signs of any damage. Which was a miracle, believe me. As Brian called his mom to let her know we would be a little late, I walked around and just couldn’t believe my eyes. On the other side of the bank, the ground was covered (covered) in chunks of ice. Most of it, a little bigger than golfballs - some of it more like baseballs. On the opposite side of the bank (where the above photo was taken), the ice was merely scattered about - not blanketing the ground. As we found out when we eventually drove off - there was no evidence of any hail at all, just next door.
Another testament to our bizarre climate. A reminder as to why I laugh when people comment about our lack of knowledge when it comes to ‘weather’. Because we don’t have blizzards and earthquakes (though we did have one of those not long ago) and sand storms and typhoons. No - certainly we don’t deal with those natural disasters often. But the difference between our weather and that of other regions, is that ours is very unpredictable. Finicky. Temperamental. I’ve learned over the years never to take it for granted. And to be prepared for just about anything. Because we never know.
A hail storm of this nature in Lower Alabama is certainly small potatoes when compared to the devastations that our world has known. Especially lately. However, I was reminded of many things during our time under the ice. To be calm. To have a plan. To act quickly and rationally.
A weird experience, definitely - and one for the memoirs. Only in the South.
Note: The title of this post, was of Brian’s genius. He’s very proud of it - and so it stays. Considering I have, unsuccessfully, begged and begged and begged for him to contribute to this blog for years - I’ll take it.
