Boy, did Mother Nature give us a swat on our big old Twin Cities backside last night, or what?  I read in the Star Tribune that one of the suburbs had five inch hail.  That's a whole lot of broken windows and dented cars.

When I was a child on the farm, the kind of weather we had last night would have sent us to the basement.  Storms on the prairie are frightening.  It's always windier out there.  I remember my late friend, Grant, telling me that it wasn't until he moved to northern Minnesota where there are lots of trees that he realized snow could fall down, not sideways the way we saw it in the nether-regions of southwestern Minnesota.

You can get an idea of the prairie life a couple of generations ago at a website dedicated to Minnesota's Grandpa Moses, Arnold Kramer.

Last night, rather than head to a cellar, I put my earplugs in and went back to sleep.  My aunt Florence once told me, "Dearie, it doesn't matter where you are, if the Good Lord wants you, he'll find you."  Sleep tight.