Billowing clouds of white and gray began filling the morning sky, blotting out the last slivers of reddish sunlight. Small black clouds raced in from the northeast in long slender bands that brought a smattering of raindrops. These lines of clouds are called “feeder bands” and help deliver moisture into the storm well ahead of its arrival. The storm began with an eerie calm, but the winds picked up quickly as noontime approached. The taller pine trees responded first, their needle filled branches swaying back and forth. A few small branches would fall earthward, but soon enough the larger branches began to fall. The periodic rumble of thunder echoed through the house as the sound of splitting wood cracked loudly from the woods behind the house. Trees were toppling, roots and all, right out of the ground in a cloud of dirt. The sound and fury of the wind whipping across the landscape was unnerving, even for an intrepid young weatherman. An occasional acorn struck the living room picture window, making a loud bang that caused us to jump. The oak and maple trees had their still green leaves stripped off their branches, disappearing in a swirling green cloud. We lost power early on and it remained out for several days.
Suddenly, nature’s fury stopped, like the intermission of a long movie. The eye of Gloria was now directly over Plymouth Massachusetts. The air became oppressively humid and the sun became dimly visible. A few birds began chirping, gliding between the battered pine trees. There was no wind and the temperature jumped ten degrees in just a few moments. We walked around the house surveying the large branches that had fallen thus far. As we stood looking into the neighbor’s backyard, the sound of an approaching freight train could be heard in the distance.
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