It’s not that Hurricane Earl was a blessing in disguise; it was just plainly and simply a blessing (at least on this side of the Bay of Fundy).
I don’t know how much damage Earl did in Puerto Rico; I suspect mostly rain. As for the Outer Banks and Cape Hatteras, well, I haven’t heard. So no news is good news. Cape Cod and the islands? Not a huge deal.
The storm stayed on track pretty well for most of the week. We knew that it would come up into the Bay of Fundy, but the question was, which side of it? Maine or Nova Scotia? Here on the coast of Maine, if you’re a fisherman or own a boat, you don’t play the roulette wheel. If it’s a named storm and it’s headed your way, you’d better move some lobster traps or take care of some boats.
After a lot of activity around the island bringing in thousands of traps (I brought in 130) and hauling small outboards and sailboats (It’s September; time they were hauled anyway) we prepared for what turned out not to be the worst. Nova Scotia, God bless ‘em, took the hit.
But it could have been us. Hurricane Noel, three years ago, behaved much like Earl was supposed to, and Noel dropped a maple tree on my truck. Not to mention scattering or staving up hundreds of traps.
So, the morning of the hurricane that wasn’t (well not here, at least) we slept late and listened to the rain come down, but the wind? Where was that?
In Nova Scotia, God bless ‘em. Earl made landfall over there blowing 70 knots. Over here, a relatively light breeze and the sun came out before noon. Cool and fallish.
In the meantime, the Annual Three-Day Art Workshop, of which my wife Jeri took part, kept on painting. Oh, they had a late start for the rain, but were back on the shores after it passed and had some added surf as subject matter.
A very relaxing hurricane.
For myself, I managed to hang out at the dock for a bit, catching up with some friends (it’s been way too busy this summer for hanging out) and taking a few photos.
And reading. The Adirondack chair on the porch couldn’t wait for me to camp out and act like a rich man for a change while what’s left of the storm passed. Bright sun, a good book, Salvadoran coffee and the kind of lunch I can’t get while out lobstering. And letting scraps of mozzarella fall to the cat.
I’ve nearly finished a book by Robert Farrar Capon, bought and begun on a challenge by some bloggers I follow (all right, they’re on intenetmonk). It’s titled Between Noon and Three: Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace. I hope to post more about this another day, but for now let me say that grace, which we all know to be amazing, becomes outrageous by the time Capon gets done with it. The book is a theology disguised as a novel. How can an extramarital love affair demonstrate grace? How can a mafia rub-out, jolly though it be, demonstrate grace? Capon sets up these parables to push grace to the extreme, nearly to the edge of universalism. Some would say that he flies off that cliff. Capon denies it. I’ll finish the book, go over my notes, and get back to you.
Thank God that hurricane came when it did. I needed a break.