I am so weary of hearing those two phrases: "...in the wake of hurricane X"; "in the aftermath of hurricane Z." At least naming storms personifies them and makes hating them somehow more gratifying. I read that Sarah Palin refers to her opponents and critics as "haters." Make me a Gustav and Ike hater. Gustav is a fat Teutonic fascist with six chins and red knees, prone to temper tantrums and bellowing. Ike is a cyclops monster with one big eye in the middle of his forehead and 18 zillion arms that grab everything and wreck it. Poor Cameron Parish, poor Lake Charles, poor SW Louisiana, poor gulf coast of Texas, poor Houston, poor Galveston. My heart goes out to those folks. In the afterburn, in the heartburn, in the heartache, the heartwake.
In the afterburned heartwake of the storms this morning it finally stopped raining enough for me to drag some branches to the side of the road. I spent the windy rainy weekend doing work--losing that week+ has really made it a scramble. So it felt good to get outside and work up a sweat. I got mixed up with some poison ivy but I had on all my protective clothing which I threw away when I got in, then scrubbed myself hard with PI soap. So far no itch. I worked for about 4 hours and made a huge pile, but if you look at the yard it's still teeming with debris. Had we dumpsters, we'd certainly be at the 20 or 30 mark. Gary wants to burn the majority, but it's just too much, and besides that it's way too wet.
The cedar trees that came down however we are going to save and have milled for fenceposts. I like the idea of having the trees live on that way. On the local news they ran a story about Leo Frilot, an artist who carves beautiful bowls and other objects out of fallen trees he "harvests" after hurricanes. I can imagine what a lovely gift and what a comfort that would be, having a bowl or object made from a toppled tree that you loved.
The hummingbirds continue to swarm around here, along with the mosquitos. I'm enjoying feeding the former but not the latter. EdieorShackleton climbed into the azalea bush by the feeders this morning to be closer to the hums. I don't think s/he could catch them--they seemed to know s/he was there and sometimes even to fly straight at her/him, buzzing the kitty. It was a sweet surprise to look up from my coffee this morning out the window and see a little kitty face peering at me from the azalea.
