Grass up to here

We came out of the storms over the weekend fine–very wet, but fine.

Really, just about all it did here at the ol’ Lathrop homestead is rain all weekend, with periods of heavy rain, and a few patches of extremely heavy rain. The winds never really came up much, and honestly, it didn’t even thunder very much.

Saturday, we ran some errands and mostly dodged the heavier stuff. But Sunday morning, as we were leaving church with the farewell gifts and cake remnants that were given to Jenni, it started pouring the second I stepped foot outside of the door. So I made a break for the car, drove it up to the door and scrambled for our oversized golf umbrella.

I shuttled my crew out of the church and into the car mostly without incident, though Patrick did hit his head on the door frame as he ran for the car. But otherwise, we made it OK, and the deluge slowed considerably by the time we got home.

That afternoon, Jenni, Patrick and I ran a couple more errands while the girls were off at a play with their grandmother. When we got back, the sirens were going off: it was strange, though, because we had none of the tell-tale signs of tornadic activity. There was no greenish sky. No winds. No unusual noises. In fact, the clouds seemed bright, there was a gentle breeze, and I think it had even almost stopped raining.

We hit the TV and found out about the tornado over in north Minneapolis. I did like my father always did and ran upstairs to look toward the west, and the sky from our place still looked just light gray–no sign of the destruction occurring underneath.

Work seemed untouched, though just about a half-mile away, at another one of our buildings, I’d heard that there was a bunch of debris from the tornado that hit Fridley. A coworker who was at that location for a while this morning said he avoid driving in some areas of the parking ramp for fear of finding roofing nails still in the shingles that had been blown in from points unknown.

But after all of the rain, it was finally a chance tonight to mow the lawn. I’m finally getting Patrick trained on that, and he did an admirable job for what really amounts to a first attempt. Now that we’ve hacked off the first 18 inches, though, I can get him out later in the week to just give it a light trim before the birthday party this weekend.

Maybe tomorrow morning, then, I won’t find three rabbits hiding in the tall grass, eying the tulips. No worries, though. We’re pretty sure they’re being watched over Judy’s spirit. Because the rabbits haven’t touched them in two springs now.

See you tomorrow.