Thursday, August 20, 2009

THE WARM DREGS OF SUMMER

Rusty Sun Rising

It's hot—nearly 28 degrees here today. Anybody with access to water is heading right for it, leaving the shops and streets as deserted as humanely possible on a work day. The worker bees are half-happy to be indoors with air conditioning while dreaming of making their escape as soon as they've fulfilled the employment obligations. My bag stuffed with knitting and reading sits packed and waiting for the moment I leave the roost and head for the river. But I have an uneasy heart.

A hurricane is heading this way. Hurricane Bill. I still remember Jaun (seems the male hurricanes give us the mosty trouble). Back then, the maelstrom winds tore along the river, ripping up trees and shredding leaves as though a giant thresher had been let loose upon the world. The next morning, four trees had fallen on our house, John's stairs had been destroyed and neighbours had to cut their way through the debris to get us out. A night of terror, I remember the sound of a freight train zooming past our windows, of seeing trees hurling horizontally by the door. And here it comes again, maybe. ..

I find myself gazing at the river differently today. More than a little scared and wondering if all it's beauty is about to be disrupted once again.