After the Storm

I’m looking across my garden as I write this.  The grass is brilliant green, the trees and shrubs resplendent in late summer glory.  ‘What hurricane?’ I could easily ask.  My house and garden got off easy: a few broken tree limbs to clean up; an oak with its top cleaved off but so deep in the woods that it need not be dealt with.  A morning’s worth of clean-up.

But half of Medfield lost its power and the surrounding towns of Dover and Sherborn were almost entirely without power (and, hence, water) for days after the storm.  Going shopping a few days ago, I was still struck by the number of roads closed, indicating either trees blocking access, live power lines exposed or flooding.



I promised an 'after' photo.  No damage to the Japanese
waxbells, which will bloom on schedule.  Ditto the
outer sidewalk bed.

Expressed at its simplest, my neighborhood lucked out.  I don’t feel smug about it or believe that there was some divine intervention at work.  Our highest winds were 56 mph.  The tree canopy is near solid and the utilities underground.  We received six inches of rain but the neighborhood is on a knoll; Danielson Pond 30 feet below us.  There was a particularly vicious squall line that missed us by about ten miles.  Had we been in its path, this would be an entirely different entry.

Another reason is simply that the storm tracked farther to the west than was expected even twelve hours earlier.  Just a few days before that, NOAA’s track had the hurricane’s eye going right over us.  We lucked out and upstate New York and Vermont (Vermont!) got flooded.  The next person who calls Irene a ‘dud’ will get nothing but a cold stare from me.