on the brink

-- August 26th, 2011 --
view of meadow


Can any­thing so destruc­tive, so dis­rup­tive, so poten­tially dis­as­trous as a hur­ri­cane really be headed to this lovely place?

Yes.

We are inland, and up on a bit of a hill, so being washed away isn’t a worry.  But we are sur­rounded by enor­mous old maple trees.  If a tree falls on you and there’s no one across the road to wit­ness it, do you make a sound?

All we can do, we’ve done.  The pantry is full of canned toma­toes, pasta, and chicken broth.  Chick­peas, tuna in olive oil, may­on­naise.  The fridge is full of creamy vichys­soise, every kind of cheese you can imag­ine, bacon, and what my brother-in-law Joel calls “Connecticut’s dis­as­ter French toast shop­ping list”: milk, eggs and bread.  The freezer is full, and John says when the power goes out, we’ll decide on menus based on how quickly its con­tents seem to be degrad­ing.  “Tonight it’s ribs and Mint Oreos, potato pan­cakes and butter!”

John’s found a kerosene lamp that his par­ents gave him years ago for Christ­mas, more as a designy thing than as a…