A New Favorite View From The Living Room Window

We get lots of great views from our living room window, what with the birdfeeder attracting sparrows and cardinals like magnets, the chipmunks busily and suspiciously digging tunnels systems underneath the yard, the bunnies preciously and serenely nibbling leafy greens, and the crazy man who passes by several times daily and who once stopped to ask me if I would sell my bike to him. But last night's view currently tops the list.

It hailed last night, and quite hard, too. Most of the bits of hail were dime- and nickel-sized, but some were as big as a quarter. I had just started washing the dinner dishes when Blake called me over the window. It had been raining -- or downpouring, some might call it -- for a little while, but just then the rain thickened into ice cubes. It was coming down in a furious fashion and was exciting to watch. But our excitement was short lived being drowned out and replaced by slight concern over the small amounts of damage currently being inflicted on our car, not to mention our tomato and green pepper plants. We couldn't do anything about the car, seeing as our complex provides no means of covered parking, but we could try to save the garden.

Blake, ever the dashing hero that he is, quickly grabbed the umbrella, looked me squarely in the eye and said, "I'm going out." In a flash of lightning, he was outside on the porch standing next to the tomatoes. His first thought was, I believe, to drag our little container garden to a more sheltered spot under the awning; however, once outside he realized that pots heavy with mud are not an easy thing to move in a downpour. He stood next to them, puzzled, for a moment, holding the umbrella over both himself and the garden. He looked at me watching him from the window, smiled and offered me a sheepish shrug. Then he stood out there for a few moments more because, if he couldn't move the plants, he could at least provide them some protection in the form of a black umbrella. Soon, though, he realized that he was getting unnecessarily wet, all protection for the plants aside, so he came back in.

The plants pulled through quite well, in large part, I'm most certain, due to Blake's heroic sheltering efforts. Our four tiny green tomatoes are still thriving. Oh, and the car's fine, too. But I don't think I'll ever forget the sight of a wet Blake standing puzzled outside in a hailstorm next to the tomato plants, trying to keep them dry.