They said the storms were going to come through about nine, so as usual, my anxiety started around noon. Like really amped up crazy anxiety. Did I mention I hate the threat of severe thunderstorms? They hit me on a primal level, like the reminder of being yelled at as a kid. “Mother” is mad and it’s not my fault, yet I’m getting the wrath. Not to mention if the storms are severe, which they were projected to be, and I’ve learned when the Storm Prediction Center says a “slight” (15% risk) of severe storms, it means we’re getting clobbered. In this era of climate change, there is no slight risk of anything. It’s all or nothing.

The storms hit around 11. And as often happens due to where I live, it was uncertain for a while if the storms would be okay as they went through or not. But as this cell pushed north out of Arkansas (which is always a dangerous direction) the warning went off. Luckily we still had internet and I saw it. My phone never buzzed. In fact, the radar never refreshed the entire time (about 30 minutes) on my phone. So it was listen, wait, and pace. Lots of nervous pacing.

I won’t lie. I’ve gotten to the point where 60mph winds and quarter size hail is a shrug. The tin can trailer has been through worse and where would we go anyway? We don’t have a storm shelter. But the 70mph winds and ping pong ball size hail? That could hurt. The house and the horses. Which brings me to today’s Sunday Horses blog.

You’re stronger than you think. My biggest worry is for my horses. There aren’t any trees by the chicken coop, and with the corner posts sunk a foot deep in concrete, well it’s not flying over. The pig has a bit more open, but her shelter is anchored the same way and again no trees. The horse’s run-in shed is anchored, I’m sure. And there are trees in the pasture. More importantly, should something go, there aren’t any walls to stop it. I worry about my horses.

Now Fortune has seen many a grand Iowa thunderstorm in her life. These Ozark boomers aren’t much. So I tell her to keep her pasturemates safe. And this morning, though I saw a few things blown over, some twigs blown out of the trees (It sounded a lot scarier in the 30-year-old trailer with the metal roof and siding.) the horses were fine and patiently awaiting breakfast.

Their message for me this morning? You’re stronger than you think.

It’s a good message, one I’ll mull over this week. And now, I’m getting sad eyes from the pasture. It’s time to give Miss Polly her extra rations, so I’ll leave you with that thought. You’re stronger than you think.

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