Just when I was thinking about glimmers and planning a swim, Tropical Storm Chantal hit North Carolina. With no warning, the afternoon sky turned black and rain poured down in sheets, all evening, all night and all the next day. Power went out and we could barely see the creek in our side yard turning into a river as it does when it floods. Since we live in the woods, trees began tossing their dead branches here and there. One live branch cracked just over our boardwalk and now (still) blocks access to the front door and, more importantly for the birds, their feeder. No tragedies at our house, just darkness, close air and mud rolling down the hill onto every surface. Water sloshed against the patio doors and the old '70s pool overflowed its coping and turned brown from debris.
We sweltered for two days, which given what has happened elsewhere, is nothing to complain about. As our well runs by an electric pump we had not a drop of water to flush or brush. Just two hot sweaty days worrying about what was spoiling in our refrigerator. It made me think about people with less and what it's like to summer without air-conditioning or fresh water.
I remember as a child in the Midwest relying on fans and sprinklers. My mom would pull the shades against the afternoon sun and make cold suppers. We didn't use the stove or oven for weeks on end. We had a below-ground basement that must have been 10 degrees cooler and we would move games and chores down there with the skimpiest of clothes on. The unforgiving concrete floor left bruises, but we played away. My father hung a swing from the floor joists and made me a foldable walk-in playhouse with real glass windows. He set up a plywood table on a couple of sawhorses for our Lincoln Logs and toy cars. My mother would hose down the floor which made it slippery as well as hard, but never mind. Anything to cool off.
Now the power is back and yard cleanup has begun. Collections are being taken at church for the parishioners whose houses flooded and cars floated away down the Eno River. A lot of Durham is low-lying. The sun is out and my outdoor plants seem happy. Yesterday a deer came right up on the back patio not 2 feet from the glass and I couldn't figure out why; there's plenty to eat in the forest and meadow. Just now a lizard was pumping and peeking in, but that's no problem. Someone took advantage of the chaos and robbed a neighbor's car, she just called and told me. They had forgotten to lock it. But otherwise, back to normal.
I love ordinary days, don't you? Just days when you do what needs to be done without working in the shadow of tragedy. That may be setting the bar low, but I think not. In Texas the flooding killed hundreds, including girls at a riverside camp. Everywhere someone is at death's door waiting for news. If it's not us this time, that's a blessing to be counted.
So this sunny afternoon with power and nothing on my schedule counts as good news and a day to be savored. I hope you have one of these, if not today, in your near future. A time to reminisce--as I've been doing about those sweltering St. Louis childhood summers--to read or write or play, a time for one of those glimmers I wrote about the other day.
From me to you in peace, Nina Naomi
