I awoke just minutes prior to four this morning.  The sounds of driving rain, thunder, and violent winds heralded the arrival of our expected tempests.

Knowing the dangerous nature of this storm system and the threat it carried with it, I immediately checked NOAA’s site.  The first thing that grabbed my attention was the list of hazardous weather conditions:

I certainly no longer felt sleepy at that point.  Seeing that and knowing the storm raged just outside, I felt it prudent to be fully awake and aware.

I quickly glanced at the current conditions.

Seeing gusts of 57 mph (92 kph) seemed interesting, but then I read in the Severe Weather Statement that gusts above 80 mph (129 kph) had already been measured with these storms.  In fact, that bulletin included a warning that people should immediately move away from all windows until the storm had passed.

I then looked at the radar and satellite imagery, both of which told me the squall line had arrived directly over my location.

All the while, heavy downpours fell as strong winds blew the precipitation with a strength of force that landed it at eye level against the patio doors and windows.  With it, a great deal of debris (small limbs, twigs and leaves) scurried about in the dark like some bizarre aerial ballet of detritus.

Lightning and thunder waltzed in beautiful displays of light and sound.  It felt like raw power streaming through the atmosphere.

The Tornado Warning indicated that problem existed north of me, so I expected little more than a severe thunderstorm—nothing unusual around these parts—followed by a gentle rain that would wind down by the time I had to go to work.

But that would not be the case.

As I fetched a drink of water and greeted The Kids, assuring each of them in turn that they had nothing to fear, a sudden change occurred.  It felt as though an abrupt increase of pressure happened inside the house.

I barely had time to stand and look at the patio doors and windows when it struck.

The impression was that of a massive solid force being wielded against the entire west wall, a wall of glass facing the patio, like a giant hammer of air slamming against the only protection we had from the intensity outside.

I could hear the doors creaking and bowing in under the assault, I could hear the rattle of windowpanes, I could sense an attack from the darkness.

Then windows broke and fell inward, the French doors in the living room snapped the top of the doorframe as the lock plate sprang from its anchors, and the feeling of impending doom fell over me like a cloak.

All of this took no more than a few seconds.

I immediately sprang into action, herding the cats into the bathroom with stern yet gentle tones and swift actions.  Huddled in that small space, we sat for perhaps ten minutes before I felt it safe enough to investigate.

What happened I cannot tell.  A microburst or downburst?  A straight-line wind zooming across the lake from the west until it struck my home on the eastern shore?  Something else?

Your guess is as good as mine.

What I do know is this:

That is NOAA’s preliminary damage map from this morning’s outbreak.  If you look closely at the longest line on the map, the one that runs from just south of Ft. Worth right toward the heart of Dallas, you should take note that its trajectory across Dallas County would have brought it directly to the White Rock Lake area.

Whether it was a tornado or a supercell generating destructive downburst, microburst, or straight-line winds, I suspect my experience in no small part can be blamed on that line of devastation.

Thankfully, my windows were replaced early this morning and the door repairs are being done now.  We should have a safe and secure home again within the next few hours.

Not everyone in North Texas can make the same claim.  Reports, videos and images from around the metroplex indicate we were assailed last night and this morning with widespread ferocity that destroyed homes, toppled trees, flipped cars and trucks like they were toys, made projectile weapons of anything not bolted down, knocked out power to hundreds of thousands of homes and businesses, and left the entire region bruised and battered.

While during the event I felt a great deal of apprehension and anxiety, especially for The Kids, afterward a certain excitement overtook me as I thought through what happened and how it was certainly a first-time event for me.

I respect nature.  I find great joy in seeing its power demonstrated.  Living within such a display can be frightening.  Afterward, though, all the excitement and awe in the world couldn’t explain how it feels.