Yesterday, a freak thunderstorm barrelled through the Wasatch Front, smashing up south Provo in Utah County and East Millcreek in Salt Lake. The damage was horrific: trees toppled through homes and cars, airplanes at the Provo airport were tossed about like toys, and flashes of lightning made my work computer turn off all by itself.
What amazes about this storm was how its path of destruction travelled in narrowly confined areas. One street would look like a war zone, while the next block over would look as tranquil as a Norman Rockwell painting, minus Cub Scouts and those hip 1940′s fashions. (Now, don’t email me about the predictible nature of microbursts. Localized damage is their gig, I know. A fellow can still awe over Mother Nature’s tantrums, can he not?)