Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Of Hurricanes and Aeroplanes

You've probably guessed - The sky did fall in a few places but not on us. Whew!

My Saturday morning flight left on schedule. I wondered if I should wait a week but the OC clinched it when he said   "Go.You're no good with a chainsaw!"

Practical man.

Everyone at the airport was calm, helpful, friendly, sharing stories as we waited to board. We were all in this together. Of course we were the ones jumping ship, leaving the rest of Florida to deal with Irma as best they could.

Compared to the dire predictions as I was leaving, we had minimal damage. Back in 2004/5 there were lots of trees down and roofs blown off.  This time, all that fell were some branches and twigs.

 Whew, again. And gratitude. It could have been so much worse, as it was in other places.

 From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved flying. Sometimes, on Sunday afternoons, we’d drive to Shannon Airport to sit in the lounge overlooking the runway and watch the planes. My mother would settle down with her cigarettes and coffee and we'd run back and forth watching planes land and take off; watching baggage being disgorged or loaded; watching passengers walk across the tarmac to climb aboard, wishing we were going somewhere exotic. Sometimes my dad would take us out to one of the planes and let us sit in the cockpit, awed by all the instruments. We were easy to entertain!

I've always preferred to be by the window to watch the patchwork of fields, farms and forests far below; the ribbons of highways, lanes and goat tracks; the crumpled fabric of the mountains; the lazy meandering loops of rivers; the widening out to lakes; the wild palette from turquoise to sky blue to purple to grey to fifty nine shades of green; the browns of newly tilled fields; the golds of recent harvest. The best times were when I'd fly home for a visit. My breath would catch and uncontrollable tears would roll when the west coast of Ireland with all its little islands, rocks, beaches, coves and  piercingly green fields, shimmered into view, always early, early in the morning.

It still fills me with wonder to be above the clouds in a magical metal tube, along with the suitcase that felt as though I’d packed it with rocks, moving along at incredible speeds but with no sensation of “hurtling.” Multiply that by the number of fellow passengers, each with their own case of rocks, and I’m still amazed after all these years.

And now the manicured green and brown and gold fields of Oregon, with the wide sweep of the Willamette curving through them, race up to meet us. Approaching the runway, the engines roar and finally we feel how fast we've been moving as we slow dramatically and the wheels make contact - a gentle bump - and we’ve arrived.

To those of you who wondered how we fared during the storm, this is a long winded way of telling you - we're fine, for now. Got off easy this time but, even as I write, another hurricane is wrecking havoc in the Caribbean. A friend sent this advice...

"Stay where you are!" 

Friday, September 08, 2017

The Sky is Falling

Waving madly.... It's been a while. Still here, heart still beating, pulse normal, stitching sporadically, reading voraciously, waiting for Fall. Maybe my brain will feel less withered if the temperature ever again drops below 80 degrees Fahrnheit and umpteen degrees muggy.

 We've been living in a jungle all summer. Jungle defined: an area of land overgrown with dense forest and tangled vegetation, typically in the tropics...We'd fit the definition if it weren't for the OC regularly braving the heat, pests and humidity to beat back the agressive greenery .The spiders are loving it. I think their plan is to trap us in their silken  masterpieces, dry us out and feed on us 'til Christmas.

Hot, muggy, steamy, rainy. But am I complaining? I wouldn't dare. Just stating the facts. I only have to turn on the news or open the newspaper to realise how much worse off we could be.

Right now, Chicken Little is amok on television and on the roads, running madly in circles, announcing  that the sky is falling. Lady Irma. Will she? Won't she? Only her meteorologist knows for sure (maybe). Here? There? Everywhere? The roads north are choked with traffic. Gas is scarce. Chicken Little continues to shout, stirring up a frenzy.

 The OC is the calm at the eye of the frenzy. Years of emergency management, I guess. When the rest of the world is listening to Chicken Little and wringing their hands, he looks dispassionately at the facts. Panicking never an option. He did however voice just a little bit of alarm when they announced a slight westward change in her path. Into the gulf would not be pretty.

As for me, I'm supposed to be scarpering off to the west tomorrow to visit grown children. How do you pack for forest fires? Though not to be too dramatic, I think they've got them under control.....No flight cancellations yet, fingers crossed. From one 'intersting' weather event to another. With any luck, Irma will lose force and spare a lot of people a disaster. Sad for the ones she already hit.
 And if she continues to be a bitch, as one of my blogger friends called her, we'll deal with it.

Meanwhile, this is what the jungle looks like today....

I hope it won't have changed too drastically by Tuesday.

If you live in Florida or anywhere along the coast or the Gulf - good luck, hunker down and stay safe.

Watch this space for an apres Irma update - I hope it'll be from out west and that it will not involve too much drama here or there.