Hail

It was the weekend before Memorial Day. The average high is in the 70s, warm enough to wear shorts during the day and a sweatshirt around the fire at night. But not this year. This year it continues to be unseasonably cool. On average, we are in the mid 50s and on a really good day, we make it into the 60s. For everyone but Xander and I, this seems to be ideal. The two of us are ready for the sultry summer's of the south but would be pleased with a few mild days.


We thought we had found that today. A nice low 70s day. Eva was running around in her new pink dress. Xander was in shorts and a T-shirt as was his father. I had my usual its-only-in-the-70s jeans and T-shirt combination. We were getting ready to have a swinging contest. It was finally warm enough for the rush of wind not to freeze me to the bone as I pumped the swing higher into the air.


Instead, we halted at the screen door as the walls shook with the rebounding sound of thunder. Water immediately spilled from the sky as if someone was ringing out a sponge. And then came the all too familiar clunks of ice pellets hitting wood, metal, and plastic. It was a beautiful 70 degree day and we were watching a hailstorm.