Sunday began early. O dark early. And part of it was spent in the no electricity dark and the “safety” of the guest bathroom. The Child Bride, a shaking Annie and your not so brave author listening to the “not a tornado” roaring overhead. Our neighbors north of us in Sarasota (that’s a really nice place on the west coast of Florida for those of you without Bing Maps) got hit a lot harder but our bit of it was bad enough.
What you are looking at is a piece of downed and smashed street lamp hard plastic lens impaled into the trunk of an oak tree in our front yard. AN OAK TREE. You know, the hardwood kind of tree as in sailing ship hull and Amish furniture kind of hardwood. I think it might have left a mark if it had hit, oh, I don’t know, maybe A HUMAN LEG.
So, 15 hours later when the power came back on, the TV news showed all the downed trees and debris scattered bout but cheerfully reminded us that it was just strong winds and not a tornado. Yikes, tell that to the oak with the sore trunk.