Fast-moving clouds sped past the caboose where I work. They didn't look the best but nothing came from them.
I really do hate summer storms. I imagine it comes from the years on the farm when I was a little girl and trips to the cellar were not drills but to get away from the real thing - tornadoes!
My dad always watched the clouds and told us when to head for the cellar, which was maybe 150 feet from the house. The only problem was that Dad waited until the storm was there and THEN told us to head for the cave. Many times we made it just as the storm was hitting.
One night Mom and Dad yelled up the stairs for my brother and me to get downstairs immediately. As we ran down the stairs we could hear the roar of a tornado and bricks from a chicken house in the yard were slamming against the side of the house. The house wasn't damaged that much but a brick chicken house that had been described as indestructible was leveled and bricks were found more than a mile away. I don't remember what happened to the chickens, but I suspect they didn't fare very well.
I can tolerate summer storms a lot better if I am at home and in my basement. My house is old but it is built solid and it takes a tremendous storm for me to feel it.
Luckily for me, storms in this area usually happen after 7 or 8 p.m., so I've been home an hour or two before the storms hit. The other day, though, storms moved through about 3 or 4 p.m. The clouds looked threatening but I counted only 5 raindrops on the caboose window.
Much ado about nothing.