Lilly Blog

While Mom and I were sitting on the front porch, we heard the heavy metal door to Dad’s shop slamming against the wall. At first she told me to not worry about it, but then she gave me permission to go close it if I could. I had tried to secure the door yesterday, but Dad had reversed the latch from its original position for easy entry from the outside. As a result, the shop door does not close easily. Since it does not rain here very often, we usually do not have to worry about this inconvenience, but on days like this it poses a problem. Anyway, I had to hunt down a raincoat, finding only the London Fog one which we have not used for a couple of years since somehow one of the sticky rat traps became attached to it and we were never able to remove the adhesive. I got in the Mule and drove to the shop, and I was horrified to find that the wind was much stronger out there. I made my way into the shop via the open south entrance, and went to the door. At first I put a couple of “heavy” toolboxes behind the door, but I sudden gust rammed open the door and sent me sprawling backwards and knocking over the toolboxes. Having got back up, I grabbed hold of the door again, but the wind suddenly sucked it shut and I felt the grind of the hard sheet metal against my fingers as I pulled them back–I had come but millimeters from getting my fingers chopped off. After sending a hasty prayer of thanks, I then tried to secure the door by using the latch, but it left the door open by about five inches and I was afraid the wind would be able to push it out of the way. Finally, I picked up more toolboxes and barricaded the lower part of the door with them. This seems to have done the trick. By the time I walked back out of the barn, the rain had become so hard that it felt like it could scratch one’s face, and it had become so heavy that I could barely see the house. Upon my return, Mom expresses her gratitude that I had finally returned: my prolonged absence had deeply worried her.
-One of the mats outside just slammed against the back door; it is becoming frightening.

I just went and looked out the front door and shot a few clips with the video option of my digital camera. The trees in from of the house have begun to bend so badly that they are touching my car. I fear that the images on the camera, much like the images one sees on the Weather Channel, can not accurately convey the ferocity of the wind that we are now experiencing. Moreover, they cannot express the quiet fear that rests not well within my heart as I listen to that rumbling come ever closer.

Popularity: 14%

The rumbling of which I spoke earlier has become so loud that I can hear it from inside the house. Mom is now busy lighting several candles and positioning them throughout the house.

Popularity: 14%

I just lit our first candle as it is extremely dark in the house once you get away from the sun room, in which I am writing this entry. It seems odd being cut off from all forms of information save our one non-electronic phone. As a consequence, save for a battery-operated radio that I have yet to turn on, we have no communication with the outside world and thus can no longer receive the broadcasts from the Weather Channel both on satellite and on the Internet that have been so beneficial to us. It is growing much darker outside, so much so that I no longer have sufficient light with which to write on my Laptop’s Palm keyboard–and I am directly beside the window.

I just lit our first candle as it is extremely dark in the house once you get away from the sun room, in which I am writing this entry. It seems odd being cut off from all forms of information save our one non-electronic phone. As a consequence, save for a battery-operated radio that I have yet to turn on, we have no communication with the outside world and thus can no longer receive the broadcasts from the Weather Channel both on satellite and on the Internet that have been so beneficial to us. It is growing much darker outside, so much so that I no longer have sufficient light with which to write on my Laptop’s Palm keyboard–and I am directly beside the window.

The electricity just went off and we are hoping that we didn’t lose anything as we did in one of the previous storms. Mom and I were standing outside, and I turned to go back in the house. I saw the lights come on and off three times and then all within the house was dark. The rain has begun to fall in significantly heavier amounts. To our east–the direction of the eye–we can hear a faint rumbling sound similar to the sound a train makes. I of course find this disturbing since I have often read-=-and at least on one occasion experienced–that this is the sound a tornado makes upon approaching. Whether this is the sound of a tornado or the approaching eye or both I do not know, but we shall uncover the truth of it soon. A few seconds ago I saw a large box fly over our roof without falling. This, I fear, is very indicative of how strong the wind is since there are not many other buildings around us. Before the electricity went off, I was able to contact my best friend via Yahoo Messenger and inform him of the situation. Having done so, I turned off the computer so as to avoiding losing it to lightning as we lost our other computer. While we were on our way back home from the pizza parlor, we noticed to our dismay that many of the radio stations were dead.
I do not know how long it will be before we are able to return to town, but when we left the mood was so nonchalant as to be disturbing. While we were eating at the local pizza parlor, we noticed that the wind had picked up to the point that it appeared that their sign would fly away. Mom called to the waitress, “Give me my bill; I have to get out of here!” The waitress said, “Why? What’s wrong?” Mom looked at her incredulously, possibly remembering–as I was doing–the image of the storm heading due west south of Victoria, in other words directly towards us, and said, “Don’t you know? There’s a hurricane coming!” The young waitress simply looked blank and said, “Oh….”

Although the sky outside is beautiful and clear, we are currently waiting for Tropical Storm Claudette to come ashore. The storm’s winds are now measured as being 65 miles per hour, and the weathermen are saying that it should turn into a hurricane by the time it reaches the Texas coast.
We did not always feel in danger. Two days ago, the majority of the reports indicated that the storm was going to make landfall around the Rio Grande Valley, their reasoning centering on the fact that a high pressure system was slowly making its way southeast. Although I admit that I am largely ignorant of the many intricacies of meteorology, I found this pronouncement foolish and believed that the storm would more or less continue to hard northwesterly course on which it is set. Now, possibly by sheer luck, I have been proven correct and the newsmen continue to talk about the “unbelievable shift” of the hurricane’s directions.