Six years ago, there was an F3 tornado that came within 800 feet of our home. I recall how it started, just west of our location. There were amazing cloud formations rolling over the top of Provin Mountain Ridge. “Mountain”, in this case, is more a name than what it really is. It’s a ridge that rises up out of the valley, cutting through on the west side of the Connecticut River. I remember the clouds, the hail, and then the howling, jet engine like wind. It was that sound that made us head for a safer location in our house.
Only a couple days ago, it was eerie as another thunderstorm came in, following a similar track. The roiling clouds, this time, looked like so many I’ve seen in photographs shot in Tornado Alley in the US. There was nothing in the forecast about tornado warnings, but when the hail started to fall, some of it an inch in diameter, I stood there with camera in hand, waiting for the wind to howl, and wondered what our fortunes may be.