From the bedroom we have such a great view (well, two views, actually, from the double windows across to the hills and from the french doors across to the field). A nighttime Texas boomer is a sight (and sound) to behold. But Friday night’s storm was off the charts. The driving downpour on the metal roof was the most intense (and fun!) ever. But come Saturday morning, we found one of our venerable crape myrtles cracked low on the trunk and spread out across the grass.
There is nothing sadder than a felled tree.