Goodnight, Irene

This is the worst of it.

A fallen gutter next to the air conditioning unit we had installed two years ago. The guys set it on a platform to meet with the FEMA flood codes.

Good thing, I'm thinking.

The sea grass came just above where it sits, in the center of the side yard.

This is where the sea grass landed on the back side of the house.

You can see the canal in front of you and judge for yourself how high the water came, Mama.

There are a few roof shingles here and there in the yard so we know we'll have to go up on the roof to replace them.

Thankfully, there was no interior damage.

Well, the water DID come into the Sun Room, but it always does. I left a blanket in front of the glass door and it is soaked. I have it in the washing machine now.

Here's another shot of the front yard, facing the marsh. You can see the fallen gutter peaking out the side corner of the house on your left.

And, you can see the line of the sea grass which means the water rose to just past that level.

Interestingly enough, none of the lights on the electric clocks are blinking, which means we never lost power.

I am absolutely amazed.

We always lose power. All. Ways.

Here's another amazing thing.

The deck furniture is right where I left it. Hadn't moved an inch.

I knew the pink carved stone umbrella holder would stay put. It's a heavy sucker. That baby wasn't going anywhere it really didn't want to go.

And . . . and . . . AND. . . my neighbor's boat and other neighbor's ski-doo are still in place, even though they were ordered to have them out of the water by no later than 5 PM on Saturday.

The head of the HOA (Home Owner's Association) says they will both be fined.

I'm not holding my breath.  Which is fine. Now that it's all over.

I arrived home at about 4 PM today and most of the neighborhood looks just like I left it.

No downed trees. Roof shingles scattered around the street. No broken windows. Every house still standing.

Looks like just another day at the end of summer, doesn't it? Like nothing happened At All while I was gone. Dogs are barking. Gulls are crying. Crickets are chirping. Cooper's Hawks are circling the marshes. White Egrets, Snowy White Egrets with silly yellow feet, White, and, Blue and Green Herons are stalking fish.

Just like normal.

If you hadn't already guessed, I was Really Worried.

Worried Sick, as they say. Really. Sick.

I guess it was the Red Cross Guy - a young, Very Blond, Very Earnest man in his 20s who appeared about 2 PM on Friday, just as I was leaving, to "help" us evacuate.  He just happened to mention that the FEMA folks were scheduled to come by on Wednesday to assess the damage.

I FLIPPED out.  "FEMA?" I roared, "Why don't they just stay down in NOLA and help get people out of trailers and into proper homes? I mean, it's been, what, five years?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely. "I guess, after Katrina, everyone is being extra cautious."

"Katrina didn't undo NOLA. That was the shoddy work of the Army Core of Engineers, directed by the racists government bureaucrats who don't give two figs about poor people or poor people of color."

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely, "Is there something I can help you take to your car?"

He was right, of course. I was totally out of line to say what I said at that time. Still, it made me Very Nervous to think "the government" - "Heck of a job, Brownie" FEMA folks - were on this.

So, the questions arise: Did we overreact? Was this good planning or panic? Did we HAVE to evacuate?

Well, I think, if you have to ask the question . . . .

And, you know what? I'm glad for it.

As much as I missed being away from our wee cottage here on Rehoboth Bay, I'm glad we were all out of harm's way - even if that meant some of us took sanctuary in the inland regions of NJ (God help us) where we lost electricity from 3 - 9 AM on Sunday and a few trees fell but, near as I can tell, no one in our neighborhood got hurt.

Meanwhile, there are still hundreds of thousands of people without electricity and it looks like VT - of all places - took the worst hit.

Some of us are saying "Goodnight, Irene," while others of us still live with the nightmare.

It really helped to have all your prayers. No, really. I felt anxious but no where near what I would have felt if I hadn't known that so many of you were keeping so many of us in prayer.

I promise to return the favor when it's your turn.

Mudslides, fires, earthquakes, tornadoes, killer bees - I'm your partner in prayer.

Fur sure.