On Saturday, there was a wind storm.
Funny how “storm” has such region-specific connotations. To me a storm means black skies, thunder, lightning, and torrential rain. The storm on Saturday wasn’t like that. The winds were high–approaching tropical storm levels–but the sky was clear and rainless. I made the mistake of sending my small daughter out in it to play (in pajamas) because to me, if it’s sunny, it simply isn’t a storm.
My husband set me straight. Branches and shingles were coming down, to say nothing of electrical wires. My daughter and I hunkered in her room, watching the neighbors’ horses watch the storm from inside their shed, until it was over.
Over a million people were without power on Saturday afternoon. Ours came back sometime in the night, and thank goodness. I write stories about modern people coping admirably with primitive conditions, but those are stories. Take away our lights, our well equipment, and my daughter’s tablet, and I am in dire straits. I have candles and a kerosene lamp. We had to ditch the matches and kerosene for the move, though. I won’t be caught unprepared again.
When the wind stopped I ventured out in the trusty Conestoga wagon to see what was what. The roads were covered in debris, huge branches were down, and all of town was dark-dark-dark. People weren’t sure how to go through intersections without traffic lights. I turned straight for home.
The next morning there was a very low tide. We went to the beach. Rocks had been pushed up 2′ higher than usual–the end of the staircase that goes to the shore was buried. We poked and prodded and had our best tidepooling experience yet: two starfish (pictured), an anemone (not pictured), and lots of snails and hermit crabs.
So chalk that up as a learning experience. Storms here happen on sunny days. I only hope we were told correctly that there are no tornadoes …