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Part 1

It is 8:14 a.m. on Tuesday, August 28, 2012. The house has been shuttered as though expecting a long winter’s nap. The first wave of rain associated with Hurricane Isaac is beginning to hit the house. The last two days have literally been the calm before the storm, as it is said, as they were beautiful, warm sun filled hours in which to prepare. This morning was no exception. It began quite early for those of us in the storm’s projected path as we completed last minute preparations.

It is strange how many items you find that you can do without as you pickup and secure things in anticipation of the winds. The roadside garbage piles the last few days have been reminiscent of spring cleaning at its best.

I sit here in the darkening room as the day progresses, listening to the wind gusts and the howling of the wind as it whistles its way through the rafters of the house like a lonely ghost. Perhaps it is the silence of the shuttered house that magnifies the pump at the oil batteries across the rising bayou. It is not a sound that we normally notice, but with the silenced normal activity in anticipation of the storm, it is somehow fitting that we hear the eerie drone of the motor.

Family pets, not normally allowed inside, welcome the respite from the heat as they lie in the cool garage. They cannot even be tempted to go outside to romp and potty, afraid that the very action of venturing outside, however momentarily it will be, will end the rare allowed luxury of bedding down in their kennels.

For a while during the storm, it was as though we were cake batter in the Kitchen Aid mixer. The wind was beating against the front of the house and whipping around the corners with such velocity, that I waited, with baited breath for the house to begin spinning.

Thursday, August 30, 2012. Now, that the weather has calmed down, there is a gentle breeze accented with the occasional rain, hampering the cleanup efforts of many. The highways are beginning to come alive with traffic as people venture out to restock supplies depleted during the confinement brought on by the storm.

I was outside earlier washing down the house, removing the remnants of leaves that had become part of the exterior before they dried. Already wet, I continued my task as the rains once again came down, enjoying the chance to feel the light cleansing rain on my skin, a sign of the healing that begins after a storm has passed.

I spent time on the front porch swing with Ryka and Calypso, who were rapturous to be free once again. Calypso seemed intent on catching up with all the time she missed chasing her tail, while confined to her kennel. Ryka was content to take up the extra space on the swing, enjoying the gentle movement back and forth as the breeze ruffled her coat.

Generators are humming all around us as people charge up freezers and enjoy the comfort of fans.

We were lucky this time around. Even as the storm danced and stalled several times as it stalked the coastline, trying to make up its mind where to strike, it did not hold the punch of storms long passed. The seventh anniversary of the devastation reeked by Hurricane Katrina upon an unsuspecting coast, has passed in relatively quietness, allowing those holding their breath to exhale.

Some things never change. It’s hot after a storm.

Tree damage.

The wind.

First rains.

Tree down. Water.

Additional pictures are available on http://mylife-in-stories.blogspot.com

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