grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

It’s raining. It’s pouring.

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Wow. Last night East Dallas was nearly washed away into White Rock Lake in the mammoth storm that seemed to hover above the city. Nearby thunder claps and brilliant flashes of lightning lit up the sky and our bedroom, keeping us awake much of the night. In a drought, we desperately need rain, especially since we all know very soon not a droplet will fall from the heavens until at least football season. But this weather show was a bit extreme, stuck over our house. I imagined the arena in The Hunger Games with acid rain and brutal storms manufactured by the evil Capitol. I was glad to be in my comfy bed instead of a wet cave like Katniss and Peeta. Finally I drifted off to sleep with Lucy and Annabelle curled next to me. The thunder even drowned out John’s soft snoring.


I was jolted awake by another wave of heavy rain and bright lighting, but feeling refreshed, I was already anticipating that first cup of coffee after such a long night. Grabbing my iPhone which doubles as a flashlight, I was shocked to discover it was only 12:03! What time did I go to sleep? Obviously, much too early.

At 1:30 I heard that unmistakable screeching sound on the television – like fingernails on a chalkboard – alerting anyone watching of an impending emergency. A tornado was probably headed our direction on its way to Arkansas, and we were all just lying here about to be swept away. Was Tate upstairs watching television, or did the ghost turn it on in an attempt to protect us? I quickly checked my iPhone weather channel, knocking my glasses to the floor in the process. There were 8 (!) weather watches for Dallas County- flash flood, river, airport and severe weather warnings. But thankfully no tornadoes. At some point I fell back asleep expecting to hear evacuation orders from the street.

And then John’s cell phone rang blasting us awake, again. Disoriented, he groped around on the night stand trying to locate it as the ringing continued. It was now 2:15. Never is good news delivered at 2:15. No one calls at 2:15 to say, “Congrats! You won the HGTV dream home!” Or, “You won the Publisher’s Sweepstakes!” Like that even exists. Immediately I worried about a thousand things in that 30 seconds. Why does bad news only come in the early morning hours, when your brain is stuffed with fuzzy cobwebs? 

“Who was it?” I mumbled still half asleep. John answered, “An automated phone message saying my Tel Aviv flight this morning is delayed”. WHAT? “You’re going to Tel Aviv? I was delirious. Did I hear him correctly? Rolling thunder shook the entire house, perfectly timed to emphasize this odd announcement. The windows rattled above my head. Did we have an earthquake too? Of course now I was fully alert, wondering why John was going to Tel Aviv and without my knowledge. He alleged it was a wrong number. Wrong numbers are totally welcome at 2:15.

Finally, after a bit of restless sleep, it was morning at long last. Although it was still dark and stormy, we no longer had to pretend to sleep, twisting and fighting the covers. John wore jeans to work in case he ends up in rushing water on Stemmons Freeway or is forced to abandon the building during midday. As he left the house, the morning news reported 162 American Airlines flights were cancelled. Someone’s arrival in Tel Aviv will be late tonight. And if its John, he better bring me back something good.


Happy first day of spring!

talya

Musical Pairings:

Maroon 5, “Come Away to the Water”
The Secret Sisters, “Tomorrow will be Kinder”

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

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