Life in the 'Doughnut Hole' of a Storm Has It's Blessings

Peace reigns across the meadow on these late summer mornings.

Sun sparkles on the surface of the ponds and the tall rows of corn in the lower field wave gently in the light breeze.

Our busy backyard bumble bees are already hard at work on their favorite yellow marigold blooms while swallowtail butterflies linger on the pink and orange zinnia blossoms in the flower beds.

What a dramatic change it is from the scene outside our kitchen windows one recent day, when the proverbial you-know-what broke loose across our tiny corner of the world.

Throughout that day were “weather impact day” warnings. A potentially severe storm front was headed our way from the southwest. Heavy storms were predicted, with reminders about taking cover.

While our immediate neighborhood has had adequate rainfall to nudge the corn stalks to tallness and branch out the soybean plants, storms frequently slide past us.

That’s not a new phenomenon, but one we’ve come to expect. Water reservoirs in the area consistently seem to redirect storms around us.

In fact, we often feel as though we live in the “doughnut hole” of water-bearing storms. While the pattern is sometimes frustrating — especially during dry spells — it has also spared us from damage at various times.

With meteorologists issuing dire warnings and weather alerts beeping on our cell phones, four of us gathered around the kitchen table for a quick supper.

Just as we finished enjoying our meal, those warnings became a reality. Thick, dark ominous clouds roiled the sky. Wind blasted the farm. Thunder rumbled.

We yanked electronics plugs as the rain turned to a gray curtain so dense we could barely see beyond the porch railings. Windows got slammed shut and we wondered if we should head toward the basement?

Our big, old willow trees in the yard bent waving limbs near to the ground as barreling winds blasted past. For long minutes, hammering rain and roaring wind was split by periodic cracks of thunder.

Then the lights dimmed — and came back on — again and again. After about the fourth dip, they went dark.

It was the last power we would have for 22 hours. And we were among the luckier folks.

In several towns nearby, extensive outages left everyone dark, from private homes to sprawling box-store establishments to the local gas station/convenience stores and markets.

Giant old trees had toppled across several square miles and become tangled among torn electric lines. Transformers dangled from split and splintered poles. Later, we learned a cousin had lost part of her house.

I sometimes grumble about technology, but cellphones and social media proved to be invaluable in the hours and days that followed. Neighbors shared information, offered help and simply kept each other informed and in touch with both needs and help.

From the sharing of generators to free ice and water given away by a local fire company. And from pitching in to remove trees and cleaning yards to checking on family and friends, folks were quick to lend a hand to others.

Our daughter’s home a few miles away still had electric, so she brought a small supply of both hot and cold water. With that, I was able to clean up supper and fix a bottle of milk replacer for a baby calf at the barn.

A little “kids pool” kept in the yard for Jax the Pup held clean water, which I could use for watering the chickens and a few larger calves.

Our farm-size generator from our milking days requires a large tractor and gulps diesel. So, not knowing initially how bad storm destruction was, we simply made do through the evening with flashlights and candles.

Freezer doors remained tightly shut and some frozen water bottles held the refrigerator at cool temperatures. Our aging refrigerator had failed only a week earlier, so the contents of its replacement was a bit sparse and not in immediate danger.

A few tall sunflower stalks and some smaller willow branches were all the outward signs in the yard of the weather violence that had reigned for about a half-hour.

Four days later, there were hundreds of properties in the extended area still without electrical service.

Officials determined the touchdown of an F1 tornado just a few miles from our farm. Packing 107 mph gusts and extreme straight-line winds, it toppled the huge numbers of trees, destroyed major power connections and wreaked havoc on buildings, properties and nerves.

The doughnut-hole phenomenon seemed to have once again spared us from the worst, while devastating property a mere few miles away. For thousands of owners, cleanup and repairs will take some time. The memories will linger for the rest of all our lives.

And our immediate neighborhood remains most grateful for having once again been spared by a storm path’s “doughnut hole.”

Heartfelt thanks go out to all the utility workers, emergency personnel and the army of volunteers who turned out to restore, repair, clean up and help those in need when Mother Nature paid a nasty visit to southern York County. We’ll thank her not to ever repeat it.

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Joyce Bupp is a freelance writer in York County, Pennsylvania.