Without a doubt, lots of local residents have interesting stories to tell about experiences during the two big storms that have recently passed through Houston. Here’s mine. My wife was out of town, so I was alone in the house when the storm hit in the early hours of Friday, May 19.
I was in bed and did one of those things where you become sort of half-awake and are partially aware. It didn’t take long for me to become fully aware that something wasn’t right.
It was because of the sound – like there was a freight train in the back yard.
I sat up and was like, “what the heck!”
I stood up in a flash and could see all kinds of crazy movement going on amongst the many trees behind our house. And that sound!
I felt like a scared little kid, and I was convinced something very bad was about to happen.
Then I realized I had left one of the cars out from under cover, and I felt compelled to move it to safety. There I was, trotting to the car with rain whipping sideways and a virtual weather war going on around me.
Even though I might be impaled by a flying branch at any moment, my curiosity prevailed and I couldn’t help but look up just before I got in the car. Not surprisingly, the treetops were moving every which way but loose.
And that sound! Either there was a ghost train pounding along some invisible tracks on our property or an airborne tornado was moving past (and I’m pretty sure there was no ghost train).
I got the car to safety and quickly went back inside, still convinced something bad was about to happen. Me and Gertie (the Permapup) kind of sat together in the sturdiest spot in the house and I just kept praying – “please God, please God, please God, let us get through this OK.”
Fortunately, the Lord had mercy on me, my dog and my home. After about a half-hour (that seemed like eternity) things quieted down and I even went back to bed.
When Storm 2 hit last Saturday, Wendy and I and some friends had just left the house for a visit to the Piney River Brewery. We were in a three-car caravan, and as we were headed out we could see that the western sky was very dark.
“Man, look how black it is,” I said.
We got onto Highway 17 traveling west, and were basically rolling right into the storm. Just outside the Houston city limits, all youknow-what broke loose.
There was debris swirling in every direction above and around us, and the trees were moving in all sorts of frenetic gyrations. Things went from tense to scary in a matter of seconds; it was like we were in a scene from the movie “Twister.”
After the windshield had been hit by a couple of fairly sizable sticks, I decided it would be best to turn back (which was not as good of an idea as not trying to go in the first place would have been), and I led a quick set of U-turns taking us back to the east.
As we got back to town, the rain was falling so hard that the front of the F-150’s hood was hardly visible.
As we neared home, I had to get out of the truck to move a small tree had come down across the roadway. I was soaked, but we all made it back to the safety of our abode.
Unlike some people, we were glad to find that our house had escaped damage (again), although not by much, as a large tree dropped right behind the back-up spot of our driveway. Thankfully, it landed in a perfect, fairly open, space, and didn’t do any harm. In fact, we all agreed it looked pretty good lying there, so I don’t even foresee taking a chainsaw to it.
From the standpoint of weather, May was quite a month in these parts. To be sure, we witnessed the power of God on several occasions.
Doug Davison is a writer, photographer and newsroom assistant for the Houston Herald. His columns are posted online at www.houstonherald.com. Email: ddavison@houstonherald.com.