And your little dog too

So when it went completely black outside yesterday afternoon at about 4.30pm, we just looked at each other knowingly like all good English people and murmured "Nights are drawing in, then". But nooooo, nights do not normally draw in quite so completely 4 days after the summer solstice.

The tornado warning went off. The stagiaire had been telling me how much she wanted to see a tornado before she goes back next week. In retrospect I think she also meant to add "from a distance", as, when we all piled down to the cellar, I was holding a blanket, an emergency radio and a small child, she'd run off for her passport. Bridgjo remained on the sofa, too tired after his business trip to move. I checked him for stripey socks before I left him to his fate, just in case I needed to insist.

I cranked up the radio and listened to some very crackly Lord Haw-Haw well-enunciated Emergency Tornado Propaganda on the emergency band ("Into the cellars, we're all going to ...."), for about 2 minutes, then we all looked at each other and thought it would be more fun to watch it instead.

My friend had explained to me how to recognise the siren ("The fire-engines go 'woooo-Oooo-oooo-OOOO', up and down, whereas the siren goes "WooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'"). She unfortunately neglected to tell me what the all-clear sounded like, and as my experience of the Second World War is based entirely around a bloke called Foyle, who has usually sorted everything out by then in any case, it looked as if we were going to be there for the night.

So we came up again. An anti-climax for us, but one of those wonderful holiday memories for the stagiaire...

I am naturally, friends with the Weather channel here, who informed me via Twitter that there was 4 feet (not inches apparently, though it had to have been a typo. Surely you can only get that much water if someone is standing over your head with buckets of the stuff) at Medicine Lake, and that we experienced a total of 6 tornadoes throughout the state yesterday. A usual alert reads like this:

"Large Hail. GR2 Analyst shows some 2-4" diameter (golf ball to baseball size) moving through the metro area, biggest hail appears to be tracking from Plymouth to S. Minneapolis to St. Paul. Flash Flood warning in effect through early tonight for some 3-5"+ amounts. Stay alert and be ready to head to the basement if threatening weather arrives. If you live in the Mankato area you should be in the basement, under the stairs, under a table or work bench." The journalists here are well-meaning, if slightly hysterical in their copy.

T thought it was hilarious as she had immediately made a den in her card-board box castle. She fancied spending the night there with her torch and wants to play again.

According to the news, possibly even tonight.

We're not in Kansas anymore....

So after a good ten minutes of "What IS that sound, it sounds like a siren", I finally got onto the internet and found it was, indeed, a siren as a tornado has just this second hit Plymouth (the town next to us). We unfortunately cannot relocate into the cellar, as that is awash with the inch of rain we had last night (it seems so much more....).

Minnesota Weather, Part 365

Well, this is the view this morning from our back-room. Yesterday spring, and a "quite warm for the time of year, fancy a cup of tea?" sort of day, and suddenly (can you use "suddenly" when it's happened twice in one week?) another 4" snow. I checked on my one solitary daffodil yesterday, and it was looking decidedly peaky.

I don't hold out for much in the way of success this year with my tomatoes etc. I have the front-room set up like a drugs farm (but no need for extractor fans) with little seedlings sitting over heat vents, and a paddling pool full of potted plants (incidentally, we don't use that wing of the house much). However, the other night I was working away in my study, when there was a huge commotion outside. Two raccoons sitting next to the French windows having a row (or something). What with them, and the day-shift of rabbits and squirrels, there is the possibility that it will not thrive.

T thinks that if we set up an actual cafe on the decking for them, they may be distracted enough. Except that the raccoons (or rats) have already started nibbling through that too.

This last picture was taken a few weeks ago when the lakes were still frozen. The ice has all melted now (well, at least yesterday it was). I am beginning to cultivate friendships with people who have boats, although I was told it gets completely rammed at the weekend on Lake Minnetonka.