Hurricane Irene, day two

We were skeptical heading into Saturday evening. At 4:55pm Irene had not yet arrived and we started to lose confidence in our preparedness. It was not being put to the test. 5:00pm, still no Irene. And then, at 5:11pm, just in time for the 15-minute no-show rule of college classrooms, Irene arrived with steady rain. The winds came later and when I woke at 4am, Sunday, to check on the state of our one leak-bucket (about a third full at that time), the winds were all coming from the east. The ground on the garden side of the house was soaked. By morning, the rain had stopped and for a brief hour or so later in the morning the sun peeked through an opening in the cloud cover. The winds continued and shifted to the west. They  howled and whistled in the treetops following a circular path until evening, but despite gathering thick clouds there wasn't any more rain. The sky was the Sunday show.

I ventured out with my camera in the afternoon and captured a stately fir tree blowing in the wind. All those branches catching the wind and the trunk remaining straight and steady. I was in awe especially as I had attempted tree pose in my new yoga wake-up and could barely get my arms up in the air away from the not-so-steady core of my body. The pear tree made it's statement by offering up most of its fruit.
  
Michael Pollan talks about the reciprocal relationship between plants and animals. He describes how plants have figured out ways to entice animals and humans to do what's necessary to ensure the survival of the plant species. In return, animals receive the nourishment, shelter and pleasure of plants. I'm sure there was a message in this last extraordinary weather event. Something that has led to a full clean-up of tree and garden debris in preparation for fall. The flooding and fallen trees all along the East Coast may be a reminder that we only borrow the land for habitation and travel and that nature will determine in the end if and where we belong. Getting out of nature's way was a wise choice in the decisions made in NYC and shutting down the City for a historic 24 hours, emptying the streets and the skies, will be nature's legacy. The mayor didn't have a choice.

Hurricane Irene, August 27, 2011

It is 11:59am and we are waiting for Hurricane Irene. It is a little like waiting for a scary relative to arrive, someone close enough that there is no real choice but to welcome them, but unpredictable enough so as not to know exactly how to prepare for the visit. We have done everything, but tie Gregory down to a chair. He has been in high alert for several days and thanks to him we have basic staples: coffee, candy and books. I will admit that I have been teasing him for days about his high alert behavior, but when he reported this morning that Starbucks is closed...Starbucks closed on a Saturday morning???...I, too, moved into high gear and wrapped the fig trees. Suddenly all the sweet plants of summer gardening seemed so vulnerable: the sunflowers that have finally created blossoms, the green tomatoes waiting to ripen, the corn that has just burst forth from tall skinny stalks. Now, at 12:04pm, the MTA has shut down the subways and buses and NYC is still. There are sandbags at the edge of all the steps on campus to slow the water down. The air pressure is heavy and we are just waiting. It's raining.