My first recollection of tornado sirens dates back to elementary school.Our old, small-town school served as a bomb shelter in wars past. During the standard periodic tornado drills, we filed into the basement, a cold concrete level painted battleship-gray from floor to ceiling. We sat scrunched in rows along the walls, and waited while the teachers took roll.
My heart pounded every time, even though I knew it was a drill. No matter how prepared I was, the bone-shaking horn still made my adrenaline jump two levels. I don't remember ever having to take cover at school for a true warning.
Even now, when many sirens are tested weekly, it still makes me jump.
Camera: Canon PowerShot SD1000, 1/25s, f/8 at ISO 200 at about 8:30 p.m.
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