Storm Season in Tennessee: Living in the Middle of Tornado Alley
If I’d known what I was getting myself into, I might’ve packed my bags and headed anywhere but here. I swear, Tennessee has got to be one of the storm-infested states in the country. The weather here doesn’t just roll in—it stomps in like it owns the place.
Last night was another round of high winds, pounding rain, and those lovely little tornado watches that keep us glued to the radar instead of getting a good night’s sleep. The winds were howling, the trees were swaying like they were about to give up, and the rain? Coming down sideways. And here I sit—inside this tin can of a trailer—listening, watching, waiting, and hoping the roof stays where it’s supposed to.
You’d think after nineteen years I’d be used to it. Nope. Every single fall it’s the same thing. The winds pick up, the radar lights up, and I’m back in survival mode, trying to keep my nerves in check while Mother Nature shows off.
Back in 2006, when my family moved us here, nobody said a word about this place being smack-dab in the middle of Tornado Alley. I found that out the hard way—watching those red warning zones streak right across our county every year without fail. You’d think by now Tennessee would take a hint and calm the hell down for at least one season. But no, she’s got a flair for the dramatic.
So here we are again today—wind gusts hitting thirty or forty miles an hour, the sky flipping moods every five minutes, and me sitting here keeping an eye on it all like it’s part of my full-time job. It gets exhausting, living on alert all the time.
At this point, I don’t even bother trying to plan anything on stormy days. You just learn to roll with it—keep flashlights ready, charge the phones, and pray the power stays on long enough to make a cup of coffee. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned after almost two decades in Tennessee, it’s that peace and quiet don’t last long once the winds start howling.
