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Twister

A couple of weeks ago we had a tornado in Dallas.

In fifty years I have never seen a tornado in person before, and considering where I live you would think it would be as casual as seeing cows.

Once in Mexico I was indoors and suddenly out of nowhere a cold wind blew through and everything in the garden stood up on its hind legs. Laundry, dust, scrap paper, all of it suddenly whirled-up in the air. I ran outdoors and a funnel passed over the house, and I excitedly pointed up in the air and said, "Tornado! Look!"

"Noooooo Gringo," they said, as lackadaisical as if they'd seen a cow, "It's a remolino." Cold air comes down from the mountains in the afternoon and mixes with the hot desert air in the valleys and creates these 500 foot high whirlwinds.

With civil defense sirens going off that Wednesday and the thickness of the air and the lowness of the scudding clouds, I knew I was going to see a twister. I had even been following it on radar and knew where to look. I saw the wall cloud, but buildings and things were in the way from my vantage point and I couldn't see anything.

As it turns out, it was a very very polite tornado, mostly kicking up dust and debris, then casually flinging an 18-wheeler into a warehouse, and no one was hurt. It was the perfect tornado for Dallas: All of the drama and none of the commitment.

Verano Calor

In the early 1900s, my Great-Great Grandmother is most remembered for saying, "If I were given a choice to live in Hell or in Texas, I would choose Hell." And this was after living 50 or more miles NORTH of Dallas.

With no air-conditioning.

Readers of this blog have heard me wax romantic repeatedly about the ideal weather here. Well, it does have a flipside: during a month or so in the summer it is one of the hottest places in North America, tied only with but often exceeding Phoenix, Arizona.

Although there are no mountains or other natural barriers close by, there are continental forces that conspire to create a high pressure area which sits stubbornly over North Texas, and Dallas/Fort Worth in particular. This remains, inert and unmoving, causing stagnant air that collects ozone and pollution and radiant heat and general misery, between the humid dome of the Gulf of Mexico to the south and the drier Great Plains systems to the North, until a "norther" powerful enough to dislodge it barrels in from Canada anytime between September and December.

After this, Loveliness resumes.

For my international readers, I will translate temperatures in celsius. Sunday afternoon it was 108 (42.2) outside of my apartment, and that night it got down to a comfortable oven-like 97 (36.6) at 11:30PM.

You see, the difference at night is trifling.

We may have a chance at rain today and tomorrow, but it is less that 50%.

As for now the grass is brown and the trees are cinged at their tops and the air retains and exudes the permeating heat of a pot-bellied stove.