Monday, October 29, 2012

Chronicaling The Devastation


The next 24-48 hours will be, no doubt, one of those events that I will one day tell my grand children about…God willing. Watched the last weather report last night around 11 o’clock, then settled in for a fitful night’s sleep. When I said my prayers I remembered to thank God for the wisdom on display over at the Henrico County School Board. That ever-vigilant bunch had the good sense to cancel school for today, adhering to the sage advice of generations of mothers and grandmothers that you would much rather be safe than sorry.

When I woke up, I fought back the rising panic and dread that began to overwhelm me as I lay there listening to the faint sound of soft rain on my windows, clearly the prelude to the torrents to come. Part of me just wanted to pull the covers tight and stay there, pretending that the horror that awaited me outside was all a dream. But, part of me really, really had to go to the bathroom…so, I screwed up all the courage I could muster and trudged downstairs.

I grabbed my cell phone to record everything for posterity. Luckily for me, no satellites had fallen from the sky during the night, and no damage had yet been done to cell phone towers on the beleaguered east coast, so I still had service. When I opened the garage door, I was greeted by this:

 
                                                                             
 


A mere 36 hours ago I had taken my leaf blower to this area and had it entirely free of leaves, pine needles, and other fall foliage. I can hardly imagine what the next 36 hours will visit upon us.

Just to give you an idea of the magnitude of this Frankenstorm, I took the following video to help you appreciate the power of the winds that this mega-storm of the century has unleashed:

 

                                                                         

video


 After I got dressed, I headed for the office, praying for the best, expecting the worst. Thankfully, the power was still on. However, when I walked out onto the sidewalk that runs behind our office, I discovered the first signs of what is to come:

                                                                           

Obviously the first of many displaced planks that soon will be sailing through the air around here like sabers of death. I will do my best to faithfully chronicle the devastation as long as I am physically able.

Peace.

Stay strong.