Storm Watch.

I was right, but the dog was righter: I guessed storms, but she knew what time. Not much on the radar, blue sky, beer in a bottle, and the dog snugs up to AMR on the front porch while the Toad hollers at Tupperware and sure enough, the neighbor's weather radio goes off, and we watch a storm that put down quarter-size hail where it hailed slide just to our west and north, dropping a good quarter-inch of rain in fifteen minutes here at 709 as it went by. This has been a spring of catastrophic storms that I've barely been able to mention at the forecast, but my god hang on down there in Alabama, in Georgia, and the dog's still not right here in NC, so: locals, sleep lightly. Has spring always been this big, and this is just the version of weather in the age of televised politics? Or are we getting bigger and badder as we heat the planet?

Hang on people, hang on, hang on. And watch the dogs.