The gales of November still blow through the streets of my little town tonight after a strange day of weather, dangerous for many.
The day started gloomy with 60-degree temps. I was tempted to run outside but the wind convinced me to slouch through a treadmill run in front of Sunday morning television at the gym.
Then it rained. And then it poured. Cracks of lightning startled my 8-pound miniature schnauzer. When the hail started, we all bolted for the driveway to bring the exposed vehicles under cover.
We experienced no damage. Oh, the football game (you know the one, I couldn’t Bear it) was delayed, but the real messes — mangled trees, flooding, tornadoes — occurred elsewhere.
Eerie day. It felt like spring, not the beginning of winter. I think such a distinctive storm needs a name. I’m going to call it a “sprall.”