Storm Time

We've had quite a storm here. The wind was scary. I should have had my delphiniums staked. There was no power most of the day; I turned my pages toward windows and sat reading. The night before, it was candlelight reading; we had no electricity for about three hours.

Today I'm gearing up for the 7- or 8-hr drive to Shelly's place north of Edmonton. Yesterday it seemed that since an old friend had died, it was fine to take the day off and move somewhat zombie-like about the house. I couldn't finish up computer work before leaving, or do laundry and pack my bags, anyway, without power. I sure as sam hill couldn't go out and prepare my garden for a week without me. The wind howled and rattled the house all day and half the night. We lost two tall spruces directly outside our bedroom window; hate to see that. There was a row of 17.

At my inlaws' down the road there is much more damage; trees down all over the place.
At the lake, a new two-story house Scott has worked on for many months had part of its roof torn off.
Boats and docks are swamped and smashed.

Today the sun is shining and people are out cleaning up their yards.

So I'm getting ready, but seem to be moving slowly. I've work to wrap up before I go, and need to tie up some flowers, run through with my trusty stirrup hoe, and call Shelly again this afternoon to see how she's faring. Her phone's ringing off the hook, friends and family are coming and going, bringing food and helping her go through the motions. I want to be with her, but know she is being looked after and may even not have had much opportunity to be alone yet. It's hard to know what to do and when, or even to rely on her to tell me what she needs, because she hasn't been here before, either. I am just going, as soon as I'm ready and she' s ready for me.

Many fond memories of Dale have been coming. It is Shelly who has been like a sister for almost 35 years, but Dale mattered too. He was always good to me, except maybe that one time at a dance when, mad at Shelly for something and at me for supposedly colluding with her (I was innocent and didn't know what the hell he was carrying on about), he hurled my shoes from the entry to the black field beyond the parking lot one muddy night and I had to be carried to the car when this was discovered at my leave-taking. It's funny, now. Happily for me, my memories of Dale are pleasant ones.