It's hailing tea, hallelujah!

We were awakened at 3 this morning by some killer storms thundering through Chicago. I padded through the dark flat to shut the windows. The wind through the sunroom window had knocked over my heavy stoneware teapot. Impressive, but no harm done. I'm off work today, sleeping in, gloriously — and was awakened again at 10 by another round. It was perfect: I came to, hearing the soft patter on the leafy tree in the courtyard, with a low rumble in the distance ... that got louder ... and closer ... and louder ... until we were rushing around yanking plants of window ledges to save them from the hail. Lightning crackling, thunder crashing, dime- to quarter-sized hail battering the trees and flowers. Yee-haw! This is what I miss about Oklahoma.

And there's another round charging in from the west, stronger. So I'm posting while I have power, and finishing off the Tea Hawaii black in Tanya's new mug. And I unearthed one curious, useless tea-and-thunderstorms theory whilst poking around on the Google:

"Keriche, Kenya, averages 132 days per year with hail. This may be by far the highest frequency anywhere in the world. One theory holds that large amounts of pulverized tea leaf litter from the local tea plantations get stirred into the atmosphere and serve as excellent "ice nuclei" once in the rain clouds overhead."

Another reason to drink loose-leaf.