Inclement weather knitting

Since childhood the wail of tornado sirens has unsettled me. As if the black, portentous sky, strong winds, and hard rain aren't enough to spook one, the unyielding howls communicating the urgent need to take cover suggest impending doom. For me tornado warnings recall when everyone piled into one of the bathrooms--no basement in our home--and listened to staticky AM radio for information and the eventual all clear.

Hearing the sirens takes me back to those times. A few years ago I was at my parents' place in eastern Indiana when the warnings sounded after midnight. I felt like a kid again as we went into this house's basement and waited it out. I was also spooked some when I was in Arkansas for some post-Thanksgiving 2005 tornadoes.

While I've never witnessed a funnel cloud, I suppose my fear of and curiosity about them is natural. We're never more vulnerable than when at the mercy of the elements, yet there's something eerily magnificent about such disastrous natural phenomena. During a childhood vacation at Lake Erie I saw waves going high over a pier during a storm. It was a scary and awesome sight. (Lest this seem in exceptionally poor taste considering the storm destruction today in the Midwest and the cyclone that has caused unimaginable devastation in Myanmar, I'm not

So when the sirens hollered this afternoon, I reverted a bit to my childhood state and tried to figure out what to do. I flipped the TV from the ballgame on cable to a local network affiliate. I wasn't sure what to do because my apartment doesn't have a basement or any rooms without windows. There's a short hallway leading from the main living area to the bedroom, so that's the best place I determined I could camp out.

I boosted the TV volume so I could hear the weathermen talk about the storm and gathered up the things I would need: a blanket, pillow, telephone, my knitting, the book with the knitting pattern, and The Survival Radio-Light, quite possibly the greatest and most useful movie promotional item I've received. (It was sent as part of the campaign for Steven Spielberg's War of the Worlds.) Yes, it was overkill, but if the power went out, I wouldn't have to budge.

Of course, in retrospect I may not have picked the best spot if a tornado had come through. I wasn't near any windows, but I was sitting in front of the closet with the hot water heater and furnace. Something tells me that being in front of those pieces might not be ideal. Maybe the kitchen would have been better, even if there's a big sliding glass window immediately to the side.

The sirens blared for forty or fifty minutes, and reports of tornado sightings (although no touchdowns) were as close as a couple miles from my home. I kept my ears on the TV and my eyes on the moss grid hand towel I'm knitting until the danger passed.

I've finished two of the twelve repeats on my current WIP, which you see above. I like what I'm seeing so far, and it's going a little faster than I anticipated. Then again, nothing brings focus like wondering if a twister is on its way.