2022 10 15
Aftermath
I could barely see through my fogged-up windows but the sound of the hail and wind buffeting the car told me I needed to wait it out a bit longer. When the storm finally stopped, the sun broke through the clouds, falling on the soaked green landscape. I got out of my car. A woman across the street from me was looking for damage the storm left behind so I asked to take her picture.
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Aftermath
I was parked behind a welding shop in Queen Anne, Maryland when the rain pouring down my car windshield turned to hail.
I could barely see through my fogged-up windows but the sound of the hail and wind buffeting the car told me I needed to wait it out a bit longer. When the storm finally stopped, the sun broke through the clouds, falling on the soaked green landscape. I got out of my car. A woman across the street from me was looking for damage the storm left behind so I asked to take her picture.
Afterwards, I drove several miles to Hillsboro, the next town over. I parked on the banks of the Tuckahoe Creek near the original brick home of abolionist Fredrick Douglas. The creek was quiet and still after the storm. By the next morning, the river bank and the backyards of homes in Hillsboro would be dry again.
