Essential Texas bad weather gear – forget the umbrella, wear medieval plate armor!


Or, at least, wear a hard hat.  I was astonished to learn of a new record set in April near Hondo, Texas.

Thing is, that probably wasn’t the largest hailstone to come out of that storm.  Accuweather reports:

Another hailstone the NOAA described as “gargantuan” was discovered the same day south of U.S. Highway 90 in Hondo, about half a mile from the location of the confirmed record-breaking hailstone. The individual who found the stone estimated the diameter to be 6-7 inches, meaning it could have potentially been bigger than the record-breaking stone that was confirmed.

Whether that stone off the highway was the true record-breaker or not will forever remain a mystery, as it was used to make margaritas before it was able to be officially measured.

There’s more at the link.

I guess that’s Texas for you.  “Hey, break out the booze!  We’ve got a world record hailstone, so let’s make a world record margarita with it!”

I was wondering whether we were going to get another hailstorm yesterday afternoon and evening.  A hellacious low came through, with lots of rain and wind.  It was noisy enough that both our cats disappeared beneath furniture and refused to come out for several hours.  I tell you, living on the “dry line” as we do, the weather can get “interesting” enough – in the sense of the fabled Chinese curse – to make a believer out of you . . .



  1. I lived a bit west of you when I was a kid. I rode out the Lubbock Tornado in 1970 under the house. Dad steamed in bellowing when he saw the funnel, we dived through a small hole in the floor to the dirt underneath. It let down a mile past our house and devastated the business district, the airport, and some of the poorer sections. They studied it and developed the F5 scale. That was a dry line creation too. Barely a chance of rain that day. Next day, 28 were dead, and the city was on it's knees.

    They grow big out there. Many was the night I spent in the cellar we built, and the basement in the new house… We called them 'fraidy holes.

  2. When I was at Shepard AFB (Wichita Falls), a dust storm blew across Texas from Lubbock, and when it got to us it rained down through it. There was an inch of mud on everything in the morning: cars, sidewalks, lawns, and every plane on the flightline.

  3. I went to Shepard AFB for missile training, and spent the next 8 years muchly underground. I was a mole man.

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