A crack of lightning in drought stricken West Coast communities, East Coast hurricane evacuations are constant reminders of the fragile coexistence between nature and mankind. For those of us living in the Upper Midwest, seasonal tornado outbreaks are a very real danger - often striking without warning.
The Daily Bucket is a regular feature of the Backyard Science group. It is a place to note any observations you have made of the world around you. Insects, weather, meteorites, climate, birds and/or flowers. All are worthy additions to the bucket. Please let us know what is going on around you in a comment. Include, as close as is comfortable for you, where you are located. Each note is a record that we can refer to in the future as we try to understand the patterns that are quietly unwinding around us.
The Longest Night - May 6, 1965
On May 6, 1965, six separate tornadoes wrecked havoc in the greater Minneapolis/St. Paul area. Of those six tornadoes, four F4 tornadoes were spotted on the ground simultaneously, two of those four F4 tornadoes within a one mile radius of the newly developed housing area where I lived, including the small lake I highlighted in my previous diary. Although my parents house escaped major damage, surrounding neighborhoods were completely destroyed.
Sixteen Minutes - July 18, 1986
Twenty one years later, living not far from my childhood neighborhood, my daughters and nephew spent the day bicycling at a local nature center. Less than an hour after they returned to my house, deciding it was time to start his three mile bike ride home, my nephew hopped on his bike, waving in agreement to my request that he phone me after he arrived home. I stood smiling to myself as I watched him ride down the street, and with a brief glance at the sky, silently hoped he wouldn’t get drenched from the downpour the darkening skyline indicated was fast approaching.
Within minutes of my nephew phoning his safe arrival home, tornado sirens began blaring. Hurrying my daughters and dog to the basement, I immediately thought of my husband’s rush hour commute home. Reaching for the radio, I glanced out my basement window. Shaking my head in shocked denial, I struggled to accept the reality that the white cloud seen directly across the highway from my house was not a rain cloud, but was the actual tornado our neighborhood sirens were blaring warnings of.
Anticipating a worse case scenario, I flipped our couch over as protection from flying debris. Settling my daughters underneath, watching as our dog Lady inched her way between them, I listened to emergency radio broadcasts confirming what I already knew - a tornado was on the ground within a half mile from my house - the awful, rumbling noise I remembered from my childhood repeating itself. Insisting she could hear a helicopter, my eldest daughter wanted to look out the window. Equally insistent she not do so, I turned on the downstairs television, and yes . . . unbelievable as it is . . . there we sat huddled together under our couch watching local news coverage of the helicopter circling overhead and real time video feed of the tornado uprooting trees and power line poles - the exact same area my daughters and nephew had spent the morning riding their bikes.
Little did I know at the time, all rush hour traffic had been stopped by Minnesota Highway Patrol three miles south and three miles north of the highway separating our home from the nature center. Stuck on the highway, unable to exit, my husband sat in his car watching the tornado flinging debris every which way. Unsure of its exact location, but aware how close it was to the general location of our house, he took silent note of emergency vehicles lining the highway in preparation for a potential disaster.
Sixteen minutes after touchdown, the all clear was announced. Within minutes, my husband arrived home. As my husband and I stood together with our daughters, each of us talking over the other, our dog Lady repeatedly demonstrated for my husband’s benefit the new family game of hiding under the couch. There have been other sirens, other tornado warnings, other devastation over the years. Although Lady is no longer with us, and we no longer live in that house, memories remain.
As the years pass (too quickly), the nature center moves forward. New trails were added, old bridges torn down and replaced with sturdier, special needs accessible structures. Three years ago my daughter chaperoned her daughter’s third grade “outdoor adventure” class at this same nature center. July of this year, a new Interpretive Center grand opening was celebrated.
Springbrook Nature Center 2016
This next grouping of four photos is located in the area where the tornado was filmed.
Now It's Your Turn. What have you noted happening in your area or travels? As usual post your observations as well as their general location in the comments. Thank you.