After Irene-Part I

I write this on my last night in my house, 13 years in a location that would have everything I wanted in a 5-mile radius. What a gift it has been. Now my husband has headed for Texas by way of one last trip to Buffalo to unload a 20’ truck of the endless possessions that represent three generations of Gonser’s, and I remain, first to ride out the storm, then to clean up both the aftermath of the hurricane and the aftermath of our 13 yrs here. Floors to be washed, walls wiped, cellars swept etc. etc. I have a right arm muscle now that would do Popeye proud!

I feel akin to Mark Twain who was born and died as Halley’s comet made its appearance and reappearance. We haven’t had a hurricane on the Cape since Hurricane Bob and I happened to be in the same setting for that. Cleaning an empty house, my aunt having entered a nursing home, only then, I had the three children with me. I was unaware of the hurricane even coming, until we crossed the bridge to the Cape and saw everyone boarding up their homes. But what a grand time we had, mattresses, pails and brooms, we were independent and totally non-electric. The storm was wild but we emerged like Daniel from the Lions den when it was over and proceeded to have one of the most memorable weeks on the Cape ever. Bob had blown away not only all electrical parts of life, but all the tourists too, so beaches were ours for the strolling and I scrubbed each day and read Prince Caspian to the children each night by candlelight. Wonderful.

So here I am again, only without the now, grown children but batteries in a CD player and a lovely voice reading “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” to me while I scrub floors and wash walls. It’s too symmetrical for words! After all these years living a house with too many possessions, I couldn’t be happier as I rearrange a few boxes and one stool to play the part of dining room table one moment, and computer desk another. The simple life is mine, at least for this little while. Tomorrow I shall go to a friend’s cottage that is wonderfully situated on a pond in North Falmouth and let the blogs from there begin. Although I will be back to relying on a library for Internet so my short lived foray into the late 20th century must end.

But Pat, this seems a bit too autobiographical for our taste, what about the nature part to all this? Ah gentle reader, that’s why this is Part 1. We were just setting the scene. Now read on to Part II and we will deal with how the natural world around me responded to being tossed about by tropical winds that seemed to last through a day and a half.