Yesterday the county was going to conduct its tornado drill. The weather obliged with a real tornado watch for us, so the drill was postponed. A great storm rolled through last night, but I don't think any funnels touched down in Fond du Lac County.
It's a grey, wet morning, about what you'd expect the morning after that kind of storm.
In the driveway and street, a red carpet of buds washed off the silver maples. The trees are no longer red-hued against the sky: all that's been blown out of them.
The temperature is down to 50 degrees. Coming from the other direction, we'd say it was warm. Coming from the heat we've had, it seems a cool morning.
I have been angry, and my anger is slower to dissipate than storm clouds. The fury of my internal weather has not found expression in its kind of thunder and lightning. Where the sun tries to break through the cloud cover in the eastern sky, there is no sun shining through my greyness. You have to get over it, yeah, you do; but you won't until after the storm has moved through.