A storm coming. Huddled together in the back bedroom. Watching out the window to the neighbor’s yard as the wind swirled in visible patterns. Incredible and beautiful and mesmerizing. Not at all frightening and perhaps hypnotic to be part of such fierceness. Standing in the path of glass and wood projectiles with winds that might carry us as Dorothy to Oz. Camera in hand refused to focus on the curvaceous twisting formations of wind. In a blink, the wind stripped the leaves from the neighbor’s tree leaving bark and trunk standing in naked defense and stark beauty to the onslaught.