Wednesday, September 15, 2004

High and Dry

Greetings from Ivan's western feeder bands. And honestly, the land is low and no one here is high, but we are all dry.

All the preparations have been done. I did all I could to protect the house, which isn't much, really. I did lots to protect my stuff inside.

For some reason, Renard thinks my window-boarding job has some kind of artistic merit. Something about the position of the crossboard and my nail placement, which you can't see. He can be rather critical when it comes to art, so this kind of left-field pronouncement about a crappy piece of paneling nailed to a window in the most utilitarian way is terribly amusing to me. I'm very inclined to see great beauty in the (so called) ugly (which is a term I really don't believe in) and ordinary, but this? (And he was not joking!) I guess some people find symmetry beautiful, but I prefer the skewed.

It's really been bone-dry all day and up until now, the wind has been just perfect for my pleasure sensibilities. Actually, it's been a little on the milder side of my preference range, but things are picking up.

I couldn't stand being inside with such glorious wind blowing, so Renard and I took a walk on the Mississippi River levee late this afternoon. The river is about 10 blocks from my house and only one block from his studio. There were only a few other people out enjoying the natural drama. Some were trying to fly kites, but the wind would gust and then it would be dead-still. The river was eerily calm. Eventually, the levee police announced a 6:00PM curfew, so we split.

I took the following photograph while on our walk. I wanted to capture the wind, somehow, which can be challenging in a still photo. The willows that line the banks of the river offered the best opportunity. I didn't cut the size of the picture too much because I thought it was pretty.

Obviously, we still have power, but we know that there are some outages nearby. The wind is blowing harder and it sounds like aircraft roaring overhead. Still no rain to speak of.

The close-call storms have been anticlimactic in recent years and I guess that is good. There are lots of people in my neighborhood who have chosen to stay. We all give the same kinds of reasons. Mine: my house is over 100 years old and has made it through dozens of terrible storms. While that statement is entirely true, I do realize that the now enormous oak tree that sits beside my house was probably little more than a sapling through some of the worst of those. If it were to fall, it would most likely hit the house across the street from mine...but its roots might also pry my house up like a lever and flip it on its side or crack it in half. I worry about this sometimes, but I have felt some serious gusts hit and the tree seems as solid as it could be.

Well,the lights just flickered and I heard a transformer explode somewhere not too far from here. I'd better go ahead and post in case I lose power soon.

I think we'll survive this one and I pray that all our friends to the east do as well. That's all for now, folks...


Blogger Lasciate said...

I'm happy to see New Orleans dodged the bullet. But poor Alabama...

7:44 PM  
Blogger LisaPal said...

We were indeed fortunate. I think we have a lot to learn from this storm.

7:49 PM  

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