everyone where i live is hunkering down for a hurricane, the winds and clouds creeping in…the feeling of the end of days is all over the region. we’ve been bracing for something the news keeps calling a “historic storm,” a media event fraught with headlines, break ins, updates, drama and reporters in hilariously ineffective rain resistant gear bracing themselves against beach boardwalk railings. i don’t want to downplay dangers or dismiss the seriousness for folks who will be affected by this storm…i suppose this hype helps keep us all safer than once-upon-a-century ago.

it means my house is quiet and dark, with a baby slowly sniffling herself awake in her crib. i’ve not stocked up on bottled water but my liquor cabinet and mixer selection is solid (including many juiceboxes). my guess is that here in my local area, away from the most obvious coastal flooding candidates, the most impactful thing we might feel is a dark blanket of power outage descending for some amount of time short enough to spare my freezer contents and half n half. i truly believe i will be having fresh coffee in my kitchen tomorrow morning, maybe headed out to a ballgame by noon. that said, i have a cute little creek behind my townhouse perfect for re-routing heavy rains, lined with bucolic trees in a tiny robert frost forest…trees that creak and crack in heavy winds as they sway toward and away, toward and away, toward and away…let’s say it’s a flirty little relationship they have with my roof. it makes for some romantic sounding nights in this place, like a prairie shack in a great plains storm, but with air conditioning and double pane windows. (and thank you again, Laura Ingalls Wilder, for my intimate knowledge of prairie shack living). without power, it quickly becomes more authentic…my living room transforms into a well-lit madonna video of votives, with one quivering, restless horse…er…lab in the stable (ok, it’s really my lap, on the couch, as though he is a 4 lb yorkie), two nonplussed barn cats in sleepy, statuesque poses and a two year old who doesn’t understand why “movie-dora” doesn’t work, or how the same system failure might affect “movie-diego” or “movie-caillou” or “movie-george” (the curious kind).

the breezes are breathing heavier outside my drafty french doors even as i write this. the leaves are all turned up at the sky waiting for the water…they haven’t been watching the news, evacuating or collecting dirt and other staples…they just ready themselves, leaf tip to root, to soak it all up and enjoy the show. i think me and mine will enjoy the show, like we did our recent earthquake, joke about the end of days and hope this one ends with my roof in one Peace. i might need to check my own supplies, lose some of the cavalier attitude i’ve developed toward reports of impending stormageddons (really people, it’s not a “geddon” if we keep having “geddons”). i suppose i could check my flashlight batteries, make sure i know where my spares are…plus i have a basement…where my liquor cabinet lives. i might need to shore that up a little this morning, and make sure that bloody mary mix is still good in case of a prolonged hydration emergency.