Hurricane Mathew After the Storm 10/9/2016

I can't help but think of that song,"There's Got To Be A Morning After" sung by Maureen McGovern.
It runs through my mind like a musical ticker tape. The hurricane arrived early Saturday with heavy soaking rain and howling, violent wind. We watched as the swirling air bent the young live oaks and pine trees, making them dance like a choreographed show. We guessed which trees might fall, praying they didn't land on our new roof that our Nationwide Insurance Company didn't cover from "The Storm of the Century," an ice storm that blanketed the south and stole our lives for five long days with no power and no work. In the end, we had two trees that snapped in half, fast and quick like a pencil broken by a frustrated student. One oak top crushed a young peach tree I was trying to coax into bearing fruit this summer. The other tree was to the back of the property and sheared off other branches on it's way down. All in all though, it was another powerful storm that shook the pine boughs until it rained large clumps of needles and pine cones and dead branches. In our neighborhood, only the squirrels, their nests made of sticks and leaves, would be homeless.

We lost our power about noon Saturday afternoon as we sat hypnotized by the news coverage and pictures of the ruined homes and lives. With no tv and no internet, we chose to take a nap from the stress of our hurricane adventure. We slept for a few hours and woke to a calmness not seen in days.

We walked outside to survey the damage and wandered down the street, waving at neighbors and chatting with them as they tossed broken branches to the side. Our saddest moment was when we arrived at the flooded lawn of the Spindler's on the corner and found their thirty five year old pecan tree, generously loaded with nuts uprooted and fallen.  This beautiful haven held the magic of the property. Like a tree from the movie of Snow White, birds and squirrels  congragated around the always full bird feeder Cats lulled lazily on the porch, napping on benches covered in old quilts and blankets.   Bob Barker, their ancient  graying terrier would run out yapping at the bees and the buttéflies.     This magnificent botanical wonder shaded their small home from the fierce southern sun and fed the neighborhood with it's fruit. Now it will be cut apart and used for smoking meat. and a few handmade bowls.        

We have been remade since this storm. The uncertainty of what will be forced us live in the moment. We are feeling grateful for answered prayers and new opportunities. We survived Mathew and we are thankful.