Saying prayers for all in Florida. We have friends there who are hunkering down in or near Orlando and Melbourne. I think some have already lost power, or are conserving their power for when the lights go out. The number of outages already in Broward and Palm Beach is incredible. (https://www.fpl.com/storm/customer-outages.html)
Despite the days of preparation, you’re never really ready for what a storm can bring.
Slow-moving Frances, 2004, was terrifying. For 36 hours, we waited inside our shuttered home, essentially blind to what was going on outside and unsure if our little house could take the abuse the wind and water were sure to mete out. Would it protect us? Or would it kill us? After all, we’d already suffered Charley. A few weeks later we’d meet Jeanne.
When we lost power, the only constants were the nerve-shredding jet-engine sound of the storm, punctuated by the sharp pings and bangs of wind-borne objects blasting the house. The counterpoint was an eerie creaking of the joists straining as winds lifted and dropped the roof. The weird, regular rhythm made it seem as if the house was breathing.
Brings to mind a line from a Gordon Lightfoot song: Does any one know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
We survived; the roof held.
The house weathered the rest of the 2004 season as well as the record-breaking 2005 Atlantic storm season. And we truly hope that today, the tough little house and its neighbors will keep its current family safe in its arms.
The (Urban-Wildlife) Interface 