We have been very fortunate - very little rain, no wind, and not even many branches to pick up out of my yard. All in all it has been a very mild hurricane. I doubt if a half inch of rain has fallen at my place. But enough is enough and I will be happy to see this storm leave.
The sky this evening:
Update - here is the radar picture as of 2:45 Sunday morning:
That certainly looks dramatic - perhaps my entrenched trench will become trenchant after all. Depending on rainfall amounts we may be in for some serious trouble this upcoming week.
10 comments:
Go with the Flo!
The beginning of the end.
Glad you made it through with little interruptions.
Looks like the storm is headed your way, windbag, so keep an eye out. Water rolls downhill fast.
Glee! the great storm is over
Forty have recovered the land
But what of the fourteen who've gone
Under the boiling sand?
Sadly, deborah, the troubles are just beginning for those in low lying areas. There is going to be some bad flooding as a result of the amount of rain that has fallen.
I mentioned that my friends left their near-coastal town, drove here to the piedmont, well, they drove back to their home yesterday and now are stuck there without power, food supplies dwindling and the water is rising again. Just because the storm has moved west does not mean that the miseries have ceased.
Sixty, so far it's nothing more than just a typical rainy day. Almost no wind. Gentle showers straight down. I feel for those at the coast. Nowhere for that water to drain, unlike here.
Point well taken, Sixty.
I didn't recognized the aberration at first and thought Emily's words were being quoted and used. The "GLEE!" when presented out of context does not take in the whole and leave room for the Hole left behind:
GLEE! the great storm is over!
Four have recovered the land;
Forty gone down together
Into the boiling sand.
Ring, for the scant salvation!
Toll, for the bonnie souls,—
Neighbor and friend and bridegroom,
Spinning upon the shoals!
How they will tell the shipwreck
When winter shakes the door,
Till the children ask, “But the forty?
Did they come back no more?”
Then a silence suffuses the story,
And a softness the teller’s eye;
And the children no further question,
And only the waves reply.
Emily Dickinson (1830–86)
Post a Comment