At about 9:30 p.m. the night of the storm, while in my living room, I hear what sounded like a gunshot as the lights went out. (Later I found out the "gunshot" was most likely the wires breaking from the pressure of the ice.) I summed it up to just a typical temporary outage and resumed my Christmas card making by candlelight.
But listening to branches breaking as I drifted to sleep, I knew this was more than an ordinary storm. On my drive to work in the morning, mangled, icy tree branches looked like bony fingers trying to crawl onto the roads. The sun peaking out from the gloomy clouds cast rays onto the frozen trees creating deceivingly picturesque winter images.
Here are a couple photos I took in Auburn, the town I cover.
My mom kept saying stuff like this happens because, "God is mad at the world." While, I don't think that is an explanation for this, I do wonder if natural disasters are mother nature's way of telling us to take better care of her?
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