Opinion: Waiting for Irene

Dead calm. Then again, that’s been my experience with Caribbean hurricanes. Even the birds stop chirping. When I tossed the peanuts out back this morning, a lone male Blue Jay had the feast to himself, until a Grackle finally showed up to join him. So much to go around, there were no territorial disputes this morning.

On my two-and-a-half mile walk this morning - just about the entire length of New Woods Road, then back around onto Woolsey Avenue - the neighborhoods looked oddly antiseptic. Virtually nothing loose was lying around: no lawn furniture, no children’s toys, no small flower pots, even basketball backboards lay down and on their sides. Heavier objects that couldn’t be moved inside were tucked tightly against buildings. It seemed as if most of us had gotten the message, and were doing the best to prepare. 

The air was so wet; I felt as if I could lather up and let it rinse me off. But it was just hanging there as if it couldn’t make up its mind to evaporate back up into a cloud, or fall as mist or light rain.

My own backyard - where the Saturday before, we had celebrated my wife’s birthday with a barbecue for family with steaks, local corn and potatoes - was swept clean of all furniture and looking like it does before the winter snows arrive. Could summer be over this emphatically?

At home, we continued tightening things up by raising everything we could off the floor in the basement, cranking up full charges on the Sawzall batteries in case we needed to cut our way out of the garage, or even the front door. My wife has taken digital photos of every nook and cranny of the house, inside and out (even the food lining the shelves in the pantry) in case we need support for insurance claims.

We feel we just need to keep moving, and doing something. It promises to be a long and sleepless night tonight.