Last Wednesday evening (June 18th) we experienced a fairly powerful storm, even for this area. In fact some have labelled this type of storm an "inland hurricane." I have to admit I had never heard of an "inland hurricane" in this sense. I knew that hurricanes could travel many hundreds of miles inland before either puttering out or turning back to sea. But the inland hurricane in question has nothing to due with an Atlantic hurricane; rather, these are thunderstorms that, for reasons known only to meteorologists, take a shape that resembles a hurricane, particularly on radar. In other words, the storm is nearly circular in shape with an area of calm that almost acts like the "eye" of a hurricane. In addition, these storms have sustained winds of at least fifty miles per hour with periods of wind even faster, and gusts of wind at speeds of seventy-five miles per hour or more.
So the "inland hurricane" blew into the area with all the subtleness of a karate master breaking a board in half. In seconds, rain was "falling" parallel to the ground and the wind was blasting at 68 miles per hour. I was watching an anemometer on Wunderground (an online weather service) as storm raged, and I can vouch for over forty-five minutes of this weather. At times, the wind speed reached well over seventy miles per hour for seconds at a time. After just a few minutes of this windy bombardment, parts of the hospital building were ripped off and sent flying to some other zip code. As the wind hit 78 miles per hour, the ambulance door was ripped out of its frame, and but for the electric wiring would have sailed off to Dorothy's house in Kansas! After nearly an hour this inland hurricane passed over, and there was a brief calm, as if the storm's "eye" were passing over. Then the storm struck again, although with much less fury than that of the first half of the storm. A short time later there was a calm, as if the storm had never happened. By the time I left work, stars dotted the night-time sky.
When I arrived at my residence, I was in for another surprise. Instead of the usual sounds of the desert night (mostly trucks passing on the nearby interstate highway, unfortunately) I was greeted by what I thought was the sound of...well, of FROGS! I suspected I needed a fresh dose of medication at first, but, as I stopped and listened, I realized I was hearing multitudes of frogs croaking and chirping. The night was clear, stars were shining, and I could easily imagine that I was on that old creek where I spent much of my childhood, listening to the summer sounds I loved so much; but this was Midland, I kept telling myself, and I was listening to frogs!
It turns out that frogs and toads inhabit the semi-desert regions of the Permian Basin as they do in all other parts of the great state of Texas. Toads are found fairly frequently in the area, especially where homeowners water their yards regularly. But the toads proliferate when there are heavy rains. But what about the frogs? I cannot say for sure how frogs first got transported into this area. Birds of course carry frog eggs and even salamander eggs on their feet, and inadvertently transfer these eggs all over the place. Amphibian eggs apparently have the ability to survive in mud or semi-damp earth for months, until a sudden rain. Within a few hours after the rare rain shower, frogs and toads, and even salamanders hatch and grow in the temporary playas and wetlands. As days go by and the waters begin to evaporate, these little critters burrow into the mud or clay. They are able to survive for months at a time as they wait for the infrequent showers that bless the desert with life-giving rain.
Tonight once again I sit out in the darkness and listen to the croaking, chirping, moaning sounds of the various temporary denizens of the desert water holes, and I, like these animals, drink in the cool damp of the night. If I close my eyes, or better yet, stare up into the night sky and look at the beautiful stars while I listen to the chaotic course of the newly awakened desert amphibians, I can easily forget that I am one of the driest regions in Texas. Instead, I am transported halfway across the state for a little while, maybe camped on my beloved Fiefdom, or in a tent at Lake Waco. Nature is truly amazing, and our world is full of wonders, like the frogs and toads that seem to come out of nowhere, brought to life by another wonder, the great Inland Hurricane of 2014.
So the "inland hurricane" blew into the area with all the subtleness of a karate master breaking a board in half. In seconds, rain was "falling" parallel to the ground and the wind was blasting at 68 miles per hour. I was watching an anemometer on Wunderground (an online weather service) as storm raged, and I can vouch for over forty-five minutes of this weather. At times, the wind speed reached well over seventy miles per hour for seconds at a time. After just a few minutes of this windy bombardment, parts of the hospital building were ripped off and sent flying to some other zip code. As the wind hit 78 miles per hour, the ambulance door was ripped out of its frame, and but for the electric wiring would have sailed off to Dorothy's house in Kansas! After nearly an hour this inland hurricane passed over, and there was a brief calm, as if the storm's "eye" were passing over. Then the storm struck again, although with much less fury than that of the first half of the storm. A short time later there was a calm, as if the storm had never happened. By the time I left work, stars dotted the night-time sky.
When I arrived at my residence, I was in for another surprise. Instead of the usual sounds of the desert night (mostly trucks passing on the nearby interstate highway, unfortunately) I was greeted by what I thought was the sound of...well, of FROGS! I suspected I needed a fresh dose of medication at first, but, as I stopped and listened, I realized I was hearing multitudes of frogs croaking and chirping. The night was clear, stars were shining, and I could easily imagine that I was on that old creek where I spent much of my childhood, listening to the summer sounds I loved so much; but this was Midland, I kept telling myself, and I was listening to frogs!
It turns out that frogs and toads inhabit the semi-desert regions of the Permian Basin as they do in all other parts of the great state of Texas. Toads are found fairly frequently in the area, especially where homeowners water their yards regularly. But the toads proliferate when there are heavy rains. But what about the frogs? I cannot say for sure how frogs first got transported into this area. Birds of course carry frog eggs and even salamander eggs on their feet, and inadvertently transfer these eggs all over the place. Amphibian eggs apparently have the ability to survive in mud or semi-damp earth for months, until a sudden rain. Within a few hours after the rare rain shower, frogs and toads, and even salamanders hatch and grow in the temporary playas and wetlands. As days go by and the waters begin to evaporate, these little critters burrow into the mud or clay. They are able to survive for months at a time as they wait for the infrequent showers that bless the desert with life-giving rain.
Tonight once again I sit out in the darkness and listen to the croaking, chirping, moaning sounds of the various temporary denizens of the desert water holes, and I, like these animals, drink in the cool damp of the night. If I close my eyes, or better yet, stare up into the night sky and look at the beautiful stars while I listen to the chaotic course of the newly awakened desert amphibians, I can easily forget that I am one of the driest regions in Texas. Instead, I am transported halfway across the state for a little while, maybe camped on my beloved Fiefdom, or in a tent at Lake Waco. Nature is truly amazing, and our world is full of wonders, like the frogs and toads that seem to come out of nowhere, brought to life by another wonder, the great Inland Hurricane of 2014.
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