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.                                            

Hurricane Mathew It's Here October 10/8/16

Thirty Eight years ago today, I gave birth to a child named John. He has grown into a man of substance and good character. He was a mischievous child; busy, noisy, curious, sensitive, artistic. He has become a risk taker, a go getter, a teacher, a father, a creative problem solver. My son cares about the world. He volunteers. He works every day to improve the lives of other adults through education and life skills. He cares about the people here, now and those to come. In some ways, I'd like to take the credit for the man he is but in the end, it is his own self determination that has molded him. I am proud of him.

John came into the world on a beautiful, chilly, quiet fall day on an army post in Kentucky. This day is quite different. We've had a water rescue in Charleston already. We are living under a curfew, many of us holed up in dry houses as Mathew approaches. I am grateful. The storm has weakened to a Category 2 now.  The most we can pray for are slower winds. The storm is bringing massive amounts of water and it is traveling slowly. They say it travels at about ten to fifteen miles an hour so it will be visiting for most of the day.

My dog Keisha needs " to go" so I don my flowery rubber boots, grab the wide, green golf  umbrella and we go out. She feels the pelting of the rain and turns to go back in but I coax her out to the yard where we walk into a massive rain soaked puddle. It has been raining steadily for at least twelve hours and I have a standing pond of at least four inches and maybe more. She walks until she finds the perfect high spot and after, looks at me with pleading eyes to go back to the dry house.

The weather watchers say the western eye wall is just on the edge of Charleston traveling over Seabrook and the barrier islands with a storm surge of over 6 feet.  Mathew is heading north and  hopeful news says the eye may not hit us but that doesn't alleviate the anxiety of the impending winds and anticipated damage. Here in the Lowcountry, our land is composed of red clay and sand. The amount of water coming down saturates the ground and loosens the tree roots which makes it likely that some trees could be uprooted once the high winds start.

Charleston is flooding. If you've ever been downtown when it rains and the tides are higher, you could find yourself in a river of salt water. It is land at sea level. The news shows a picture of a 1965 Ford Fairlane sitting on a city street with water flooding half way up the door. Someone will wake up this morning and their heart will break. It's too late to run now. It's past time to save your stuff. The Ravenel Bridge is experiencing some wind and rain. The news cam shows us sheets of sweeping water across the suspension. It is closed stranding people on the peninsula. One hundred and thirty thousand people are without power in our state. Our unwelcome storm has hit.

We are expecting our power to go off today. At this writing, twenty eight thousand homes in my area alone have lost electricity. We always do during ice storms and strong thunderstorms. It is part of living in paradise. The sun will come up soon and I will walk through our neighborhood and take pictures of the flooding. Our friends and family are texting and calling us for updates. My brother is boarding a plane in Syracuse to start our vacation. Beer King John Durham called and offered to bring us back supplies when they return from their wise flight west.


We are thankful to the thousands of men and women, news, weather reporters, police, fire departments, National Guard, and utility companies who stand by to help us recover once this storm passes. We are in the midst of Mathew. We are good, for now.

Waiting for Hurricane Mathew 10/7/2016

Meteorologist Jim Cantore is in rain soaked Florida at 5 o'clock this Friday morning and I'm watching The Weather Channel. He says he knows there is tree damage, even in the dark because he can smell it. The smell of fresh cut wood. Only it is the broken limbs and uprooted trees torn apart from 100 to 120 mile an hour winds. They say the impending storm surge, the water rises will be significant there, six feet or 7 and the water will rise inland, going up rivers with the potential to have record flooding. Again they are urging hard headed people who think they are safely cocooned inside their communities to evacuate. The eye wall's edge is nearing Cape Canaveral. Disney World is closed! 😭

Here in The Charleston, SC area, we have been as busy as ants. Worried about swirling ditches damming up during the impending storm, Tim climbed down the deep ditch next to our house yesterday and threw swollen logs, dead branches and armloads of leaves and pine straw up and over the edge of the bank where I stood ready with rake and hoe to pull the debris away. Half way through the work, a small swarm of bees came up from the ground, buzzing around my head and neck. As I swatted and ran, one found it's way down my rubber boot and stung me through my jeans. Checking my battle wound and finding no stinger, I went back to work.

 Tim brought in the deck chairs and I helped with the the high rise table. He raked burnt umber pine straw into short,  long rows meant to channel the small streams that will soon be running through our property.We talk about going out to the Whitesville Fire Department where rumor has it, they are doling out some free sand bags. Our concern is keeping the rainwater out of the garage. I shove bottles of cold water into my stuffed freezers anticipating lost power. I decide to make shrimp and grits to use up some of the meat.

I talk with my sister April who lives in Panama City, Florida. She is saying that they aren't expecting much of a storm there so their hotels are packed with evacuees. My daughter calls from St. Louis to check on us. She has me on speaker phone and I hear the voice of my ten year old grandson expressing concern for us as we ride out the storm. I tell Easton that we are okay and we will keep him posted through Facebook.

Later I run to Walmart to pick up a few things like dish soap and snacks and I think about my cousins in Boca Raton, knowing the hurricane will be upon them soon.  My Aunt Paula is three miles from me and her youngest son Johnny Wray and his partner Jessica have come in from West Ashley in Charleston. Once you leave, they won't let you come back until after the storm  so they hunker down together and we decide to go for a visit. Their sheep dog Fluffy has his new bed and blanket set up next to Jessica and he is settling in for an exciting adventure at Grandma's, barking every once in a while at the doorbell sound from the game show on TV. We have arrived just in time to interrupt their spaghetti dinner. We drink a couple of  Sweetwater 420's and hang out for a few hours, then head home in a drizzle.

This morning, I switch to watch our local weather man Josh Marther tell me that Mathew is expected to bring storm surges as large as Hurricane Hugo. The  police and National Guard have been supervising the mass evacuation going west. Once on 26, there's no getting off until you hit Columbia. Now the camera pans police lights flashing in the dark predawn hours on an almost deserted highway. The law officials will all be gone by 10 am he says. The two side which both run west now will return to normal operation. Josh says we will have rain and the majority of the storm will hit us Saturday morning. We are still hoping the airport will reopen by Sunday so we  can go on vacation. Most flights out will end by 2 pm today.

But for now, there are buses picking up stragglers. There are about 60 shelters open.  We will clean and finish up our preparation and wait. We will listen to our governor, Nikki Haley tell us to leave once again. She will tell us about OPCON 1  and our declared state of emergency.  She will tell us that once Mathew comes, there will be no one to call for help. My neighbor Susanne says we will stay and watch out for each other. And we do.

Hurricane Mathew 10/6/16

If you're a news junky like I am, you've seen the progression of Hurricane Mathew as he ripped apart Haiti  and Cuba. Heading toward Miami and then the east coast to Georgia today and tomorrow, this destructive catagory 4 storm has most sane coastal dwellers running for their lives. Our governor, Nikki Haley has ordered an evacuation under  OPCON 1, the highest state of emergency. This morning I'm hanging on the words of Josh Marthers from News2 who says the storm has a "pinwheel" eye as it crosses Nassau. He predicts the storm will run dead center up the coast to Charleston, probably turning east and traveling back around to the Bahamas.

In a state of uncertainty and anticipation, we are preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. Yesterday, our work places were closing in anticipation of this storm. Trident Tech police officer John called me early to ask if I was planning to come in and clean out the freezer and refrigerators. They were shutting down the campus and turning off the electricity. That was the start of my day and then I went home and brought  my yard ornaments and stored plants in to the garage. I filled the trailer we use for carrying yard debris to the dump with branches and plastic plant containers. Knowing that the shelves in the stores had been cleaned out Wednesday, I gathered all my saved plastic water bottles and filled them. My husband dumped the trailer and filled the truck with gas as well as our gas can. We gorge coolers with ice. Calls from family and friends offering shelter and prayer and clean up help after the storm were received but but we are stayers. That is we will not be evacuating. News man Brad Franko warns me that if I drive on an evacuation route, I will be swept up in the flow and not allowed back home until Mathew heads east.

Josh says no hurricane is the same and talks about the amount of money spent by the federal government to sample the atmosphere. We watch the weather imaging tracking the mass, the winds, the breath of Mathew. They keep telling us to prepare. To leave.

Last night we met up with some of our friends, late. We went to Craft Cafe in North Charleston to talk about our plans. The Durhams are heading west with their children and dog. The Gnades and their neighbors Robin and her husband "Irish Whiskey" plan to stay and hunker down in their new homes. We order beer. I drink a local Revelry Stout and we talk about our jobs and our fear of this storm. Seems like John and Nancy are the only ones in their right minds this evening. On the way home, we put the top down on our Mustang and ride through the night, looking up at the starless, cloud filled  sky.

Today we will be showing our family of house sitters how to run the generator should the power go off and we hope to be heading out on our postponed vacation on Sunday but it's not looking good at this point. Planes fly west during hurricanes and do not return until after. Denver will have to wait. My brother and his wife who are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary will be enjoying our Airbnb apartment alone. We've switched our flight once. Should we switch to leave early and miss the storm, worrying all week about the damages?  My husband says yes. Let's go. I need to watch over my home and my senior dog Keisha Pearl and see this through. We will prepare, freeze bottles, fill the bathtub with water and wait for Mathew to come.