We interrupt this gardening series to say:
At four in the morning my husband and I were awakened by 5.2 magnitude earthquake.
At first I thought my husband had gotten up and for some reason was shaking the bed. Then, as I noticed he was still lying silent beside me, and the rocking increased, and I realized that in fact my whole house was shaking, my thought process went thusly:
This is an earthquake.
But, we don't have earthquakes here.
Well, actually, we do, sometimes, but I don't want to think about that because that makes this even more scary.
Could it be something else? Like a gas explosion or something in a nearby neighborhood?
No, this is definitely an earthquake.
And then my husband sat up and said, "This is an earthquake!"
Just as I was priming to jump out of bed and run to my son's room to take him outside or under a doorway or something, the earthquake stopped.
The kid slept through the whole thing.
Meanwhile, I couldn't sleep for another hour. I just lay in bed with my eyes open, reminding myself over and over again that the big earthquakes are supposed to come first and any shocks after that are supposed to be minor.
And before any of my California readers mock me, note that this Midwesterner faces down house-flattening thunderstorms, roaring tornadoes and rushing flash floods on a regular basis without batting an eye. But an earthquake? That's just NOT NATURAL.
(Except when it is. But let's not remind me of that. Okay?)