Okay, it's heavily raining up here on the roof of Nebraska this morning, but a damage report is in order.
Vast parts of the state were shattered (Omaha though escaped a tornado, which is extraordinary), this area too.
The bug-eyed caretaker (I used to call him the town drunkard, but that seems indelicate, considering I admire him, so now he's been re-baptized) came out this morning. He thought for sure the place had been flattened, given what he's seen other places nearby.
Eleven trees are down, nine of which he figures he'll chain-saw down for firewood--it's good wood after all, great wood, oak and stuff--the other two, he'll just leave alone. My motor vehicle had been shifted by the winds; I had parked it facing due east, and the storm shoved it to parking facing due northeast. There are no leaks, but the roof, which is older than franksolich, will probably have to be looked at. The foliage is flattened all over, but it should bounce back up in two or three days.
The river in my backyard's rising, but of no concern right now.
The grove of walnut trees survived without a scratch.
There's half of a grain-bin out in the meadow, its original location unknown.
There's one of those long pipes from someone's center-pivot irrigation system up in a tree; the bugeyed caretaker's going to have to borrow a crane to get that down. Who it belongs to, is currently unknown.
The power lines are fine; the natural gas line is allegedly fine.
The William Rivers Pitt still stands, Gibraltar-like.
The cats are fine.
And I'm sure the primitives are rejoicing and thanking God that franksolich is fine.
It's supposed to rain here all day, and possibly this evening will be much like last evening.
We'll see; I remain, as usual, defiantly confident.