What is it about Stations of the Cross on Thursday evenings which invites ferocious weather. I don't pretend to understand the mystic corollary between the Via Dolorosa, Golgotha and our ancient adversary the Weather, but there it is, the battle between Good and Evil played out in the cosmos itself.
It started with brisk wind and slight rain, which fast escalated into a beating tempest. A lull, a calm, a quiet point as birds sang thinking it was Spring. And then? Clouds rolled in from the South, tornado watch, and it was time to capture the moment from the front porch.
Would this burgeoning storm blast our bucolic farming community or would Weather's wrath pass us by? Thank Gaia, our enemy the Weather chose to strike East and punish the Deep South, like Sherman's army. We pray our brothers and sisters survived.
Stand firm, resolute, and draw the moral of this story as you take it.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
