It came upon us quickly. One moment I was hosting my very first Webex meeting and the next the outside world was tumbling down, the electricity went out, and the house was plunged into darkness and silence. Typical 2020.
Out of the corner of my eye I’d been warily watching the outside turn steadily darker as my video conference progressed. The window was cracked open a little to let the air in and the rush of the wind sounded an early warning. Yet it was still a surprise when the sky was suddenly filled with falling pine needles. Like some Steven Spielberg bit of filmmaking, it was the onslaught of falling debris that signaled something larger and more ferocious at work.
Bigger boughs of oak and pine soon flew through the air and suddenly the deluge came down. Rain and wind collided, the electric went out, sputtered weakly on for a moment (never enough to connect for a quick Webex goodbye) and then went out for a couple of hours.
Gusts of wind clocked in at 68 miles per hour at the airport down the street while we hesitantly peered outside at a yard now filled with wet debris. All the potted plants had been felled – both fig trees, the immense angel’s trumpet, two containers of tomatoes, and the salvia, still blooming at this late stage of the game. Clumps of sweet potato vine had been torn from their perches and were strewn about the patio. Everywhere there were pine needles which had apparently been waiting for their chance to jump because there they all were. Even the mighty oak, always the last to let it its leaves go, had given up lots of little leafy ghosts.
There was something poetic about it all – the final reckoning of the sweeter season, torn asunder in dramatic form. Left in its wake was an instantly colder atmosphere. The warmth and humidity of earlier had been replaced by a chilly cousin. The world turned upside down.
