If it's not sudden one-eye blindness, it's 74 mph winds blasting by our home. As the Counting Crows say, A Long December...As a prairie girl (or perhaps, Camp Fire girl) at heart, I'm one of those who doesn't mind a power outage, in fact I actually *like* them. I know, in my last post I admit I found the MRI machine relaxing, now I'm saying how much I enjoy no electricity--though you might have overlooked me as a poet for my sense of style, these eccentricities give me away. Yes, poet of candles, poet of the expensive white cave.
Mostly, I'm thankful nothing flew through our windows. There were times I thought I'd look outside and see that witch in the tornado scene riding by on her bicycle, but mostly I saw darkness and the houses across Puget Sound with their glowing lights, while my neighborhood closed it eyes, tucked itself into the hillside and went to sleep.
All through the night I heard the wind, but our home didn't shake and the trees around it didn't uproot, didn't break apart. It was a strange wind as the boots we left on the deck remained, but the heavy metal fireplace stand I was using in my garden as a small fence, tumbled over, but did not break.
24 hours later, our power came on. 30 minutes after the pizza delivery man visited (okay, not very Little House on the Prairie, but convenient) and ten minutes before we would need to change the candles. Mostly, these storms revolve around my cat's insulin and trying to make sure it's kept cold. The rest is easy--booklights, candles, reading, resting, playing cards, just listening to the wind begin to take over the town.
On the radio this morning, a newscaster said he saw a man outside his house hooking up his coffee machine to his Toyota Prius. Yes, that's a perfect snapshot of Seattle for you...
