The hot air blew up north from the Gulf and the cold wind swept in South from Canada.

And when the two fronts collided over the plains, their battles spilled over into a monstrous rolling storm cloud not a few miles north of my lot in the woods.

For the better part of an hour, as things were unfolded, the buzz of the weather alert was all I could hear on the TV and on the radio.

They're saying this one could be a big one folks.

Stay indoors and be prepared to run to the cellar if this supercell does indeed produce a funnel cloud.

We'll keep you updated as more information becomes available.

And, all at once, I could see the black underside of the beast as it moved,

and then the trees started the list and sway, and

then the wind rolled up through the grass until it blew dust onto my trousers and into

my hair.

I whistled.

Come on, Shilow, I said. Inside boy, let's go.

Just as the dog made it inside, it began to rain.

Nothing but a drizzle at first, but then a pounding, howling

downpour that fell in sheets and torrents. It turned the dirt into mud and then poured

from the gutters, and it swept up against the windows like

ocean surf and chillo never won for thunderstorms if you could help it lay down on the rug and covered

his snout with his paw and began to whine.

Hang in there boy, it'll be over soon.

I sat down on the recliner and turned on the TV

and pet him absent mindily with my free hand.

Well, do you think it will produce a twister?

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