This is not a soil enhancer. This is hail. Yes. Hail — as in a run…bunny…run hailstorm. It’s been in the low seventies all day with a chance of a thunderstorm. Bright sunshine. Big fluffy clouds. I was sitting in my office when my world went a little dark. Dark — as in shut off the computer, unplug the power source, and skedaddle to the first floor. Be sure to shut windows along the way. I did that with my super powers. Seconds later, there was hail everywhere. It was bouncing off the potting table like popcorn in a popper. The lawn and flower beds were covered in minutes. It stopped, and then it started again.

The sun came out. Business as usual. I went back to my office, flipped switches, and commenced working. There was so much steam rising off the garage roof that it looked like the house was smokin’ — as in after-the-fire-is-put-out-smokin’.

I’m no weather witch, but that must have been some high, cold air mass. Because, even while it was hailing, the outside temperature was still warm.

I just came in from surveying the damage. The plants with the large leaves sustained the most damage. Some of the hosta look like they caught a barrage of bullets. I’m pretty sure one tomato plant is capital D dead. I think it may have succumbed to fright.

Gracie Allen didn’t crack so much as an eyebrow. I need a Golden Retriever gene.

Mama Nature. Don’t mess with her.

Elen