In Texas, we compare hail to sports balls instead of small change. Windows, windshields, roofs, home, schools, neighborhoods, the destruction is indiscriminate here. What snow is to Eskimos, storms are to us, myriad. Thunder, lightning, hail, tornados, rain, electrical, dust. Even snow, pollen, crickets, and those damn 7-year cicada that emerge from the soil to swarm come sudden and oft leave just as quick. Maybe that’s why I learned young to speak of the weather and to feel deeply tethered to the sky as much as the land.
