And the world came crashing down. Literally.

Last week was the most extreme windstorm that has ever hit my area. Here's the story from my perspective:

Wednesday was a beautiful day – not a cloud in the sky. WanderingHere and I walked downtown together, and we didn't notice at the time, really, but there was a sort of stillness in the air, like the wind was holding its breath. We were chatting with a couple of friends in a parking lot downtown when we noticed a dark towering cloud in the north sky. We said our goodbyes pretty quickly and were headed down a trail when the wind picked up. It was actually really beautiful – we were under a grove of maples and the seeds were fluttering down, like, hundreds and hundreds of them. And then when we got to a street that ran north/south, that was when the wind really hit. We pretended it was the apocalypse and scared ourselves and held hands tightly. And we made it to our church just as the rain began pouring down. (WanderingHere went out and stood in the rain, just 'cause she's like that. )

We were there for a recital that night of everyone who had taken voice or piano lessons during the year. It was great, I sang relatively well, but what made it really memorable was the flickering lights as power faltered, the flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder outside. By the time we drove home, the storm was pretty much over. It was raining a bit, but not really. We were deep in conversation but would lapse into uneasy silence any time we drove by scenes of the wreckage wrought by the storm: a tree uprooted, a tree crushing someone's front porch, and branches and leaves scattered all over the road.

When we got home, the sight that we met was stunning – for two reasons. First, the sheer amount of damage: there were at least 15 trees down around the house – young pear trees and venerable maples and others – and we later found as many as 50 down in our 300 acre property. Our lawn furniture was shattered and camping trailer had been moved by the wind. But the second reason it was stunning was because no buildings had been damages. It was unbelievable considering the amount of damage done.

We started to get information from news online: 11,000 were without electricity, a local man had died when the wind flipped his pontoon plane, the town of Coboconk (about 20 minutes from chez moi) had been absolutely devastated, with telephone poles snapped in two, large trees on powerlines, in the streets and uprooted in the park, and boats scattered down the river.

The next morning we stayed home from school in order to clear off the roads around our house. We're still in the process of clearing away the downed trees – I spent all weekend dragging brush and cutting firewood. It's not the most fun work, but what an incredible experience. When I'm an old coot I'll be telling my grandchildren about that storm.


Speaking of which, I've had a hankering for a pipe for four years so if you ever want to make my day send me a wooden gentlemanly pipe.

But yeah, I was doing really well, comments were down to 270 and replies below 1,000 – until I published this article and my comments are back up close to 400 and replies are skyrocketing. By all means don't stop talking to me. I'm just saying this 'getting caught up' business is more difficult than you'd  think.

And I'm getting theWrittenRevolution back in order, which is thrilling.


I'm still alive, terribly excited for events this summer and working away like you know I do.

Brief story that I'm sure you'll love:
Several weeks ago, I crushed my toe with a chair, then fell down the stairs and really damaged it. Then I smashed it again on two separate equations, which really must have slowed down the healing process. Nevertheless, I'd made a lot of progress until Sunday, wen a little girl obliviously jumped on my foot. Now my mother is forcing me to take real good care of it. I got severely scolded for my flippancy as if immobilizing pain wasn't enough.