It is a woodturner’s dream down here in Florida. Piles of downed tree trunks and limbs
have been hauled to the front of most yards since the hurricane. I have just such a friend in NYS who should really be down here with a truck driving from house to house, picking up the best pieces for future live oak bowls or platters. She would have raw material to last for years.
T is fixing our privacy fence, a key component for staying sane in these close Florida developments. Many fences came down in the high winds, so stacked fence panels also sit at the curb, waiting. I am happy our fence still stands. Sneaking a peak at our neighbors’ backyards this week seems almost indecent. I do NOT want them to see ours! We are on waiting lists for various repairs to roof and pool areas. We slowly wait for civilization to return our teeny part of the world to what passes as normal...for us.
We were lucky. Our neighborhood was only without power for one and a half days. Our daughter’s subdivision was without for nearly 5 days. There are still places in the county (and definitely the state) where households will be without electricity for weeks. T and I still don’t have internet or cable. First world problems…
Our daughter’s family chose to stay in their house during the dark days. They managed in a semi-camp mode with gas grill, candles, flashlights, and bottled water. They charged their phones sitting quietly in their cars, in the driveway. Our grandson, N, received a few Lego kits that kept him busy.
When we got electricity back our 13 year-old granddaughter opted to stay with us for a couple days. It was fun. We made jewelry and ate ice cream. Best of all, we had her all to ourselves for a while. As long as we live, none of us will forget this hurricane or our time together.
The worst hit us between 2 and 4 a.m., early Sunday morning. What a cruel time for a storm to hit! All you can do is lie in the dark, unable to see the direction of the wind or the damage wrought, but hearing it nonetheless. The wind was ferocious, absolutely petrifying in the fullness of terrible, destructive power. Sometimes it sounded like a train was coming straight towards us. We were ready for anything. Now I am tired.
I think of refugees; how hard their lives must be. They are left with so little. How do their children pass the time? How is their food cooked? When will civilization bring hope and normalcy back to their lives? What IS normal, after you have suffered so much?
T is fixing our privacy fence, a key component for staying sane in these close Florida developments. Many fences came down in the high winds, so stacked fence panels also sit at the curb, waiting. I am happy our fence still stands. Sneaking a peak at our neighbors’ backyards this week seems almost indecent. I do NOT want them to see ours! We are on waiting lists for various repairs to roof and pool areas. We slowly wait for civilization to return our teeny part of the world to what passes as normal...for us.
We were lucky. Our neighborhood was only without power for one and a half days. Our daughter’s subdivision was without for nearly 5 days. There are still places in the county (and definitely the state) where households will be without electricity for weeks. T and I still don’t have internet or cable. First world problems…
Our daughter’s family chose to stay in their house during the dark days. They managed in a semi-camp mode with gas grill, candles, flashlights, and bottled water. They charged their phones sitting quietly in their cars, in the driveway. Our grandson, N, received a few Lego kits that kept him busy.
When we got electricity back our 13 year-old granddaughter opted to stay with us for a couple days. It was fun. We made jewelry and ate ice cream. Best of all, we had her all to ourselves for a while. As long as we live, none of us will forget this hurricane or our time together.
The worst hit us between 2 and 4 a.m., early Sunday morning. What a cruel time for a storm to hit! All you can do is lie in the dark, unable to see the direction of the wind or the damage wrought, but hearing it nonetheless. The wind was ferocious, absolutely petrifying in the fullness of terrible, destructive power. Sometimes it sounded like a train was coming straight towards us. We were ready for anything. Now I am tired.
I think of refugees; how hard their lives must be. They are left with so little. How do their children pass the time? How is their food cooked? When will civilization bring hope and normalcy back to their lives? What IS normal, after you have suffered so much?
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| Palm trees surrendered some skin and fruit - made for a nice photo, I thought |
I've lived through two tornadoes and one earthquake that came with the same sound effects. Fortunately, all happened in daylight. It's good to have spent such special time with your granddaughter. Your hurricane will never be her hurricane; you made it much better.
ReplyDeleteThanks for that, Joanne. I love it.
DeleteIt is good that you all came through healthy. Now you have a lot of work ahead of you.
ReplyDeleteTrying to get some people to fix the things we can't is going to be the worst of it - everyone needs them now!
DeleteIt's interesting how the storm brought a woodworker's dream and a homeowner's nightmare. But you were lucky and it looks as if Beloved's family in Miami are lucky, too. Count your blessings. you are definitely one of mine!
ReplyDeleteAwww, thanks. Ditto. Looking forward to hearing about your experience with the Miami family staying with you. What a big-hearted kindness.
DeleteI'm glad you're ok and glad your family is ok too. My cousin is fine as well. Take care
ReplyDeleteGood to know! Thanks.
DeleteYour description of it-- from loss of privacy to loss of power; from wood-strewn everywhere to precious time spent with your grand-daughter-- truly conveys the power of a storm on every level. When you write about that sound of the wind in the middle of the night it reminded me so much of waking at 2:00 am in Boulder, Colorado with the winds of a Chinook blowing off the Rockies at 140 mph, and me wondering if there was suddenly a train in the bedroom. The impact and memory of such events last a lifetime.
ReplyDelete140 mph is pretty darn epic. Irma was only about 85 mph by the time she hit the Orlando area. Wow.
DeleteYour firsthand description of the force of the wind in the darkness of early morning and the aftermath make Irma intensely real for me. No wonder you are tired. There is still recovery work to do. Sending love. The only wind I have to compare it to in my experience is the wind tunnel at the Nu'uana Pali Lookout in Oahu, Hawaii, where the wind can reach 74 mph. We likely experienced 60-70 mph wind when we were there in July 1970. That wind was memorable in its power but not threatening, as it was below the level of the hurricane force wind that you and so many experienced recently.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks. Reading about the Nu'uana Pali Lookout now!
DeleteSo pleased (and what a pleasure to read your writing) to read that you all made it through relatively unscathed. How wonderful to be able to turn a scary, devasting event into a fun, memorable one.
ReplyDeleteGood luck on the rest of the repairs.
Thanks. We finally got our internet/cable back yesterday, so I'm thankful for that.
DeleteWhat an experience. And yes, what is normal? I think we are creatures of habits and comfort is what we strive for.
ReplyDeleteI listened to someone's recordings of the noise the hurricane made and it sent shivers down my spine.
The noise was impressive! And now Maria is making her mark in the Caribbean. As for being creatures of habit, I agree. It is unnerving when our smallest routines are upended. Even when we have so much. The depression and despair refugees must feel is very much on my mind, and weighing heavy on my heart.
DeleteI am so glad to hear you are ok and that your area is recovering more quickly than others. The news footage is heart rendering, both here in the U.S. and of coarse on the Islands where the devastation was total and they had nowhere to escape to. Virtual Hugs.
ReplyDeleteI am virtually hugging right back...
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