The day was curious, quiet, mild, breezy. We waited. The kids got restless. We went for a walk. Outside was ghostly. We passed the pizza place, surprised to find it open. Inside the atmosphere was anticipatory, festive: kids romping, less attended than usual; adults having a beer or two or three, watching the bar tv, checking their phones, swapping howzitgoings.
More quiet time at home, each retreating to their corners. Winds picked up in the late afternoon. We watched the weather through the back screen door. A banana tree toppled. Then another. (No great loss: banana trees aren't trees, more truly weeds — though I adore them — easy to fell, quick to grow back.) We talked with neighbors until stinging rain sent us inside. Red beans and rice for dinner. The weather grew worse. We battened down.
The first drama: the long neglected utility pole out front keeled over, though fortunately the cars it would have crushed had been moved to higher ground. The pole had not provided any true "utility" for many years other than as support for my beloved jasmine. The pole won't be missed and I'm confident that the jasmine can be saved, transplanted to a new happier home.
The power flickered several times but persevered. And as the windows rattled, we had family movie night — The Hunger Games — followed by a before bed weather check: the storm had jogged to the west, the city likely spared the worst of it.
Everyone is asleep (except Delilah curled up next to me), and I lie here musing, feeling the old house shudder, watching the willow through the window, whipping sideways in the wind, wondering what the night might or might not bring. Tomorrow we will pick up the pieces, few or many.
It keeps things interesting. Bon soir.