Come On, Irene
So we move up to Washington, D.C., and within the first week I’ve had my first earthquake and my fifth hurricane. It seems that every time I try to move anywhere, a hurricane or tropical storm hits. I moved to Richmond in 2004, and Gaston caved in my ceiling with rainwater, while Ivan pounded the hell out of my hometown. Katrina was the big hallmark of my harried move to Europe in 2005, stamping my first days in Paris with grief and worry. And now Irene, the historic storm that’s currently skirting the Mid-Atlantic region, aimed for New York. At least I’ve already got the car unpacked.
There’s something so majestic about hurricanes, though. Their size (graspable only with radar and space shots), their unstoppable strength, their ominous and inexorable creep, all form the impression of a living creature. No wonder we give them names.
The fast-moving bands of deep gray clouds have been rushing over Odenton all morning, and now the rain has begun. It’s a certain kind of rain that folks who have been through tropical weather can recognize–a heavy, spitting, erratic kind of rain, blown-about and chaotic. We’ve finished zip-tying and securing the back deck furniture, and are finishing all the chores that require electricity or water. Now there’s just the waiting. Just us and the storm.
Aside from the obvious wrath of God, D.C. is beautiful and amazing.
![bookmark](http://www.erosdiscordia.com/wp-content/plugins/share-and-follow/images/blank.gif" height=){kind=small}
Related Posts
Leave a comment
