Reality Check

   I am bemused (not to be confused with "amused") by folks who say "I love hurricanes."  Three different people made that statement to me in the past month.  No.  No, you do not.  You may love the excitement that comes with the uncertainty of the storm but have you carefully thought through that statement?  Keep in mind, I am not talking some minor hurricane here but rather something like a Cat. 5 storm. That is not a "likeable" thing.  The loss of life, the total destruction and the misery after the fact is enough for any reasonable person to realize that it is not possible to love hurricanes.  I like a good storm.  Trust me.  When tropical storms come through this area, I admit there is a "thrill" of riding out that entity.  But...ones like Hurricane Katrina are not loveable in any sense of the word.  We stayed for Katrina...we will stay for any others but it was no party, folks.

  

  I wish folks would not claim to love hurricanes.  After going through Hurricane Katrina and seeing the heartbreak in so many folks, there is little to love.   While we had damage to the Little Bayou House (3 trees on the roof, water ruining floors, furniture destroyed and all of our plumbing ripped out), we were fortunate. Others lost everything...many lost their lives.  (And before thinking "Oh, insurance covered it", think again.  Hurricane insurance does not cover the tidal surge that comes with storms.)  So, before making the statement about your love of hurricanes, folks, ride out a Cat. 5 hurricane.  Stay strong when the whole house begins to shake, windows break regardless of having storm shields, trees come through the roof and the storm surge pushes inside. Stay sane through the deafening roar of the winds which seem to be never ending. Stay for the aftermath.  Don't pull up stakes and go somewhere else.  Stay.  Live without the luxury of electricity, running water (think no bathroom) and even phone service...not for a few days, but for months.  Deal with the mountains of debris, the stench of death, the hoards of flies and mosquitoes, the impossible heat and looters trying to steal what you have left.  Push up your shirt sleeves and clean the muck from your home and then go help others do the same.  Console those who have lost everything they owned or even worse, lost their loved ones.  After you do that...then, if you still "love" hurricanes, proudly proclaim it.  Until then, however, it is not a wise thing to spout because someone who has dealt with such is going to take you to task and not be as gentle as I just was.

  Oh, the photos?  Those were of our place after Katrina.  That debris?  In places, it was ten feet deep.  Try digging out from that. Look closely and you will see the roof of the Little Bayou House sticking out among the downed trees in the first photo.  Still think hurricanes are great?  Oh, and before the thought that perhaps we should move occurs...this is our home.  This is not a whiny post but rather a reality check for those who think hurricanes are all fun and games.

Hidden From View

  The north wind has been blowing a good bit with the cool spell that we are having right now.  This wind blows the tide way out from the shoreline and reveals all that which is normally covered by our muddy waters.  Brackish water hides a myriad of things from hurricane debris to trash from unthinking boaters.  When the tide is low and the mudflats are wide, the debris can be seen for miles.  A lot of the stuff is natural things such as logs and parts of piers but the bottles and cans come from trashy people.  That is the junk that causes problems.

  This morning, I took a few moments to check what all would need to be cleaned once we get the pier rebuilt.  Luckily, around our pier there is a minimum of trash.  We do have a lot of tree limbs and large logs that will make fishing difficult.  Those will need to be cleared.

  I find it interesting to see what the water hides.  Near the pier, there is also evidence that the family of otters is feeding well.  Thousands of clams have been dug and the shells discarded after the clam has been eaten.  The mud will eventually reclaim the shells as it does most everything else.  Low tide equals interesting finds.  Time for work.

Seeing Possibilities

   The back is sore!  After clearing the remaining small gardens and upper hill of debris, I pushed a lawnmower for a couple of hours.  This was to mulch the small stuff that remained after removing anything that was too large for the mower.  By late morning, I was ready to move onto a new chore,  There was a huge pile of firewood that needed to be stacked.  Mark had used the chainsaw to cut up four of the felled trees on the lower part of the hill.  The logs had to be hauled up the hill and then stacked neatly for the winter.  This will be used in the two wood-burning stoves that heat the Little Bayou House. 

  While stacking the wood, the mind is free to ramble as it may.  It was during those ponderings that I realized, at least, Hurricane Zeta gave us warmth for the winter.  It is often hard to find any good point about storms but, if you search long and hard enough, you can find that all is not bad.  It is all a point of perspective.  If you look at the destruction and see bad, it will be bad.  If you look at it and see possibilities, they will arise.  I prefer the latter.  The gardens are being redesigned, the greenhouse roof is being improved and the pier is being rebuilt sturdier.  In fact, the entire place is getting a "makeover"!  Storms give us that opportunity.  Otherwise, we get lackadaisical and tend to shrug off some chores "to another day" or we wait for the elusive "round to it".  

  

MUD!

   If there is one thing frustrating about hurricane debris cleanup, it is the fact that it is dirty work.  Literally, it is dirty, nasty work.  I am not speaking of repairs here, just cleanup.  Those who do not live on the water cannot understand the extent of what needs to be done.  Ninety percent of inland cleanup is downed trees.  Here, we have everything that used to be in the Bay in our yard.  Marsh, garbage from other folks, mud, dead critters, nets and, oh, did I mention, MUD??  Now that it is a month into cleanup, things are not much better.  In fact, I would venture to say, my part is worse.  I am the "mulcher" of the debris after everything is pulled from the piles.  Great when wet, horrible when dry. We are in the midst of a drought so the mulch grinds to dust.  That fine dust makes breathing horrendously hard!  Son, on the other hand, still has mud...stinky, oozy mud.  He is dismantling the pier and salvaging what is halfway decent.  He is sloshing around in mud up to his knees to do this.  Not a fun job.

  This afternoon, I took off a few hours to work in the vegetable garden.  Those chores still have to be done regardless of how tired we may be from the other.  When I finished and came to the doorway, I saw what seemed to sum up the day's work.  Son's mud-covered shoes were sitting on the steps. He had tried washing the shoes with the water hose but the mud refused to budge.  The shoes looked weary.  We are weary.  There is no end in sight.  Tomorrow will be much the same as will every day for the next couple of months until the mountains of debris are gone, the pier is rebuilt and the yard is somewhat back to normal.  Life goes on even for those exhausted by what stands before them.  

The Tempest And The Tree

   What you find in the debris during a hurricane can pretty much tell the severity of the blow.  Usually, we find a "wake-line" of dead marsh mats, boards, trash and small pieces of driftwood.  If a storm of a Category 4 or 5 comes, the tidal surge brings heartbreaking stories in the form of people's homes, businesses and the possibility of finding one not so fortunate.  Thankfully, the only deaths on the Bayou have been critters and not humans.  The stronger the storm, the greater the chance of others' belongings being washed ashore here or in the shallows of the Bayou.  After Hurricane Katrina, boats, sides of houses, furniture and even a refrigerator truck came into the yard.  Sofas were hung in the tops of trees and whole decks were laid against the house.  We were fortunate that Hurricane Zeta came in as a Category 2 and whipped itself right out of here with great speed.  The wake line contains the marsh mats and boards but very few other items.  

  One of the more interesting (and beautiful) items to sit in the front yard compliments of Hurricane Zeta is a very large piece of driftwood.  The thing is about five feet in length and perhaps has a diameter of almost fifteen inches.  It has beautiful knot holes and stubby limbs.  The driftwood piece is hollow and has been smoothed by the tide waters.  The wood is remarkably clean so the grain can be easily seen.  

  One thing that interested me was how many hurricanes this once massive tree had seen.  It is obvious to note that the winds were not easy on it.  The entire piece was once twisted mercilessly by the winds.  The woodgrain wraps around the tree instead of being straight. It is a beautiful piece and should have a place to show its glory.  Either this piece will find its way up the hill to the Little Bayou House or will be carted to my brother's place across the way.  We both find the piece interesting.  Either way, the driftwood will finally find a home after so many years being tossed and turned by a tempest.

Lawnmowers can be evil!

   Lawnmowers are dangerous!  It seems that the machines are out to get us.  I have it figured that they are monsters in disguise.  When you least expect it, mowers can leap out in attack!  Wham!  They've got you! It ain't pretty, folks!  It ain't pretty!

  I guess you have gathered by now that I had a run in with the lawnmower, today.  In all fairness, I have to admit that I was stupid and the mower was not at fault.  The mulching of the debris line from Hurricane Zeta is still in full swing.  Using the lawnmower as a mulcher was a hare-brained idea that came to me in the middle of the night when I found that chipper/shredders were outrageously priced.  Knowing that a new machine would rust quickly when putting salt-laden debris in it, I opted to use an old, refurbished lawnmower instead.  Smart thinking...stupid thinking.  The mower is lacking the back guard flap that keeps things from slinging out at your feet.  No problem...until today.  I had carefully (I thought) raked out the debris line and removed anything that could not be mulched.  For the past two days, everything has gone smoothly.  Today, I was obviously lax in sorting and left one unseen object in the debris.  That object could have been my undoing.  As it is, I have a slight injury to my wrist.  

  After mowing for about an hour, I noticed a rather large chunk of wood between me and the mower.  I reached down to remove it and, at that very instance, the mower picked up an 8 inch long bolt and propelled it toward my leg.  The bolt, now jagged from impact with the blade, caught my wrist, instead.  A two inch long slice was cut into the flesh and blood oozed down into my hand.  Well, now!  I wiped the blood off onto my jeans and I continued.  The wrist did not hurt so I figured I could keep working.  It was just a "flesh-wound".  Again, blood filled the palm of my hand and dripped to the fingertips.  Ok, so it was time to head to the Little Bayou House for a repair job!  

  After cleaning the wound, I packed it full of turmeric, bandaged it and headed out the door to work.  Since I am working with debris from the Bayou waters that teem with the flesh-eating bacteria during warm months, I figure I did not need to take any chances.  The turmeric should tend to that for me.  The bolt was obviously ripped from one of the pier stringer boards.  It was rusty and had been in the water for some time.  Perhaps, I should have called it a day but there was work to be done and no time to lollygag about.  The wound will be watched but I am sure not going to whine.  Life is good.  Lawnmowers, on the other hand, can be evil!....Nah, it is all good.  I just need to be a bit more careful.

Just What I Needed

   The Small Gardens are a huge mess.  There has been no time to spend tidying them due to the massive amount of debris that Hurricane Zeta left in the yard.  The debris comes first as there is another storm predicted to make its way into the Gulf.  If that storm takes aim at us, the debris can become missiles and do greater damage.  So, the Small Gardens will lie in their current state until time is not so short.  It saddens me each time I pass through them to get to the task at hand.  I barely look at the wind-ravaged plants as if ignoring them may make it all go away.

  This morning, however, a tiny speck of orange peeped  out of the shambles and demanded attention.  I knelt down and carefully lifted a bit of the mess from atop the plant.  A marigold struggled to put forth a bloom even though it was broken and bent.  That tiny, twisted blossom was the most beautiful sight I have seen in a week.  Touching the flower ever so gently, I wanted to let it know that I appreciated its effort.  Then, a tiny Pearl Crescent Butterfly came to the bloom.  Even though I was just inches away, the butterfly crawled on the petals in search of nectar.  

  Suddenly, the day was a bit brighter, the work did not seem so daunting and, perhaps I was not quite as exhausted.  Life goes on...somewhat.  It is different.  It is hard.  It is tiring.  But it is life.

Every Little Bit Helps

   Cleanup after any storm is a slow, tedious process if you are wishing to salvage anything.  Stuff has to be pulled from the debris pile, checked for damage then sorted into "keep" or "toss".  We are trying to salvage our pier planks from 1100 ft of a debris line that is 4 ft deep in places.  It is not easy but every plank pulled, every section cleared is progress.  Slow progress but progress just the same.

  My main job is managing the burners so we can eliminate as much of the marsh waste as possible in as short of time as possible.  Son is pulling the pier planks and doing all of the "heavy" work.  I stack the boards to dry them,  It is a teamwork effort but we are working against the clock.  There is a good possibility that another hurricane could be in the Gulf in a few days and having that slam us with the debris still in place would mean devastation.  So, the race is on.  The work is exhausting but we cannot take a break.  

Cristobal, you can leave now!

  Well, Tropical Storm Cristobal came to visit the Bayou and is stirring up a tad bit of trouble before he makes his exit.  Yes, I do know that the storm "officially" made landfall in Louisiana but, like I said before, that put us on that right side...the side you do not want to be on during any tropical system.  Why?  Because in any typical storm, that upper right quadrant (our side in this case just like in Hurricane Katrina) is the side that catches the brunt of the wind, tidal surge and rain.  The area that is impacted by the right side of a tropical system in the Atlantic Basin, is in for trouble.  We got trouble by the buckets!  Rain...lots and lots of rain fell on the area and that created flooding and wind..sometimes gusting nigh on to hurricane force, pushed even more water into our area.  In fact, as of this writing, the rain gauge reads a little over 8 inches. This flooding is not going to go away for a while.  Here on the Bayou, we are lucky.  We live on a hill that overlooks the Bay and Bayou.  While the tidal surge came and is slowly receding at this time, the rain filling the creek that empties into the back of the Bayou is causing trouble for those behind us.  Here, the rain slides off into the Bay.  Others are not so fortunate.  The water from rivers, creeks, ponds and any low spots just pools and then floods into houses.  Not good.  

  The pier seems to have taken a beating and planks have wandered off to parts unknown.  Those will have to be replaced.  Hopefully, (I cannot tell yet as water is still covering it) the base structure of the pier is still intact.  Planks can be replaced with a little hard work.  The gardens look a whole lot worse for wear.  The wind has pretty much tattered the plants.  Again, with a little hard work, those can be replaced.  Son and I worked throughout the storm to keep things together.  Several times, we had to brave the pelting rains and high winds to hoist the skiffs a bit further up the hill until we finally just chained the boats to a sturdy oak tree.  Enough of that!  

  Tomorrow will find us with more rain and occasional fierce winds but hopefully the storm surge will be down.  Cleaning up the debris line across the front and side yards will have to wait until Cristobal decides to make a full exit.  As I am writing, the winds are still rapping at the windows and rain is continually pelting the rooftop.   Some of these storms just refuse to leave!

Strong Winds and Mudflats!

  Where did all of the water go?  The walk to the pier this morning was not only a tad difficult due to frost coating each plank but was disappointing since there was no water!  The storm system that hit the Bayou for the past few days did a fine job of pushing water in to the Bay and Bayou when the wind was coming from the south but, once that direction changed, it pushed it right back out into the Gulf.  Yesterday's winds were from the west and, then last night, the winds turned from the north.  The winds were blowing a gale and coming from either of those directions pushes the water far from our pier.  The pier sat high and dry.  The large boats moored at my brother's pier were sitting on bottom.  Son and I were smart!  Yesterday while the tide was high (before wind direction changed), we pulled the small skiff well up into the yard and tied it off to a tree.  Now there is no strain on the lines and we have no worries about it breaking free.  Since it is just a small skiff, it will be easy to put back into the water if needed.

  With the tide being far from shore, there was a clear view of what is normally hidden by water.  We try to keep the area around our pier clear of trash, logs or anything that may snag our lines.  It always amazes me how much stuff is washed in without us seeing it until it has settled into the mud.  Within a few months, more PVC piping, bottles, cans, tree limbs and other debris have wound up next to the pier.  Once the boat is returned to the water, a good cleanup is in order.  This is other people's trash but Son and I are the ones to dispose of it properly.  At least today, I got a good idea of how much is there.  If nothing changes, this should be a quick and easy job!

 

Just Another Mud-covered Bottle

  We all see bodies of water and marvel at the beauty but we rarely think about what lies beneath the surface.  Sure, we realize that there are any number of critters living there and that way down deep there is a bottom of either sand or mud but do you ever ponder what else the water may be hiding?  I do.  I do simply because eventually whatever is under the water winds up on my shoreline.  The mud cannot hold things forever.  A good strong tide from a gale can churn up the bottom and send all sorts of...umm...treasures (yeah, I wish) my way.  

  The other night, we had a strong east wind that whipped things this way and that.  This was one of the first high tides that we have seen since the start of winter.  Usually, the north wind pushes the water far away from the pier but this wind did just the opposite.  With that wind whipping the waters into a frenzy, the mud was churned and a multitude of junk came floating to the top.  One has to wonder just where the stuff comes from in the first place.  A milk jug, a myriad of beer cans, drink bottles, tennis balls, logs and one mud-covered, unidentified bottle all made their way to the pier.  Most were fished out and discarded properly (something some folks obviously cannot do).  The mud-covered bottle bobbed just out of reach and, to this day, remains unidentified.  I was in hopes that it was another old milk bottle, an antique medicine bottle or a vintage soda bottle from years and years ago.  I guess I will have to wait until another storm enters the Bay to retrieve the bottle.

  It amazes me just what the mud hides.  Each hurricane that pounds the area dumps literally tons of stuff into our little bay.  There it sits just long enough to become mud covered and then slowly sinks out of sight.  Some of the stuff has been there for decades before it is suddenly roiled from its grave and shoved to the top. Once it resurfaces, it rides the surf onto shore and becomes mired in the marsh.  There, it sits if I cannot reach it with the long-handled net.  Eventually, another storm with higher tides will shove the junk far up into the yard and leave it in a debris line that is sometimes ten or more feet deep.  Yep, just another one of those lovely perks of living on the water.  I get to clean up other folks' mess.  Just once, it would be nice if there really was a treasure and not just a mud-covered bottle.

 

High Tides Bring All Sorts of Things

  It never ceases to amaze me just how many things wash into the Bayou on a good high tide.  Besides the usual driftwood pieces, we receive every piece of trash folks toss overboard.  Some trash confuses me a bit, however.  There was the time that Mark pulled "Santa" out of the marsh.  Why Santa was ever in the marsh befuddled me.  Another time, a doghouse washed ashore and, albeit unusual, at least it was sans the dog.  We have found antique bottles, boat seats, rods and reels, stuffed toys, soccer balls and a poodle. (The poodle was sans the doghouse.  It swam all the way across the Bay before making its way ashore by the pier.)  Finding other folks' belongings makes you wonder about the how and why behind each one.

  This afternoon as the Mr. PJ (the old dog) and I were meandering around the hillside and marsh line, I came across another "find" that made me ponder.  A fire extinguisher had washed ashore under the old oak tree on the east side of the property.  The extinguisher was obviously from a boat and obviously, from the looks of it, had been pretty battered at some point.  Since I make this hike several times a day, I pondered why I had never seen the extinguisher before.  Perhaps this had come in on the high tides associated with Hurricane Nate earlier this year but was covered with other debris until now.  Winter tides are, as a rule, low due to the north wind so it could not have ridden the waves recently.  Who lost their extinguisher?  Had a boat sunk during that recent storm which was not much more than a good squall?  Did someone just toss the thing overboard as pathetic people tend to do?  Was it a working extinguisher when it was lost?  How long had it been in the marsh?  So many questions with no ready answers.  My find for the day is just another piece of trash at this point.  It will be fished out of the mud and disposed of properly along with the several dozen beer cans and drink bottles that I also retrieved today.  I sure wish folks would stop dumping their trash in my front yard (also known as the Bayou!).

I know you are there....somewhere!

  Here lately, I have been pondering the survival tactics of critters.  Here on the Bayou, there is a plethora of critters so I have the opportunity to observe things first hand.  One of the things that always impresses is the art of camouflage.  Critters are masters at this.  Most folks will walk past dozens of critters without even noticing them.  Not that I can spot a lot of them but. at least, I look for them!  It has become sort of a game with me to spot camouflaged critters.  Moths blend well with tree bark. Grasshoppers and katydids are sometimes impossible to spot among foliage.  Frogs blend well with logs and mud.  AND...crabs can hide among the bits of debris that washes in on high tide.

  Fiddler crabs, especially, are adept at hiding in the midst of debris lines.  A tiny crab can blend so well with its surroundings that it is easy to go so far as to step on them when hiking.  Fiddler crabs will oftentimes "freeze" as a method of defense if the flight instinct mode is not feasible.  Freezing in place will protect the crab from certain predators.  A bird perched high in a tree is attracted to movement so if the crab stops, it becomes well hidden.  The same goes with most predators.  They sense motion.  This draws attention to the prey.  Let the motion cease and the prey often blends in with its surroundings.  

  I first noticed the tiny crab in the debris line only because it moved.  Once it froze in place, it took minutes before my eyes focused on the crab's shell even though I was only inches away.  The coloring had served the crab well.  Had I been a hungry predator, there was a high chance that I would have given up on finding the crab again.  The camouflage was just that good.  Even afterward when looking at the photograph, it took me several minutes to find the crab. Check the first picture.  Can you spot the crab?  The second picture has been cropped a good bit and, even then, the crab is pretty well camouflaged!   Critters are amazing!

Katrina....Stop already with the "gifts"!

  Living on a bayou, one expects (or at least should expect) storms to roll in from the Gulf.  Most of these storms are not so severe that the damage is lasting but every so often one will ravage the area. Hurricane Camille was the "benchmark" storm for a long while.   It was the storm that made history.  For years, tales from those surviving the storm were regaled during front porch visits.  Although the farm where I grew up was not right on the water like the Little Bayou House, we did see a good bit of damage from that storm.  Then, along came Hurricane Katrina.  A new benchmark was set.  This was the storm that beat all storms.  It is one that will be in our lore for years to come.  Someone once said that Hurricane Camille killed more folks during Hurricane Katrina than it did when it hit the Coast.  People never expected a storm to be stronger than the one that they survived. I say...never trust a hurricane. (And, for the sake of argument, Katrina did hit here.  We did get the brunt of the winds and surge because we were in the northeast quadrant..the strongest part of any storm.  But we did not get the news coverage that other places did.  So be it.  We survived.)  Hurricane Katrina was one to reckon with and one to deal with even twelve years down the line. 

  Now, dealing with what Katrina left behind is becoming quite evident. The recent rains did not do us any favors.  During the month of June alone, our area received over 24 inches of rain.  Hmmm, that is more than some places see annually.  With the Little Bayou House sitting high on a hill overlooking the Bayou, we had little worries of flooding from these rains.  What did happen was that the torrential downpours washed dirt and sand down into the marsh.  While this is not too bad for the marsh, it is bad for the hillside.  Ruts have been washed wherever there was a lack of good sod.  These ruts now have exposed a previously unseen hazard.  Both of the aforementioned storms dumped tons of debris on our property.  A lot of this debris was covered over with several feet of sand that had been carried on the tidal surge all the way from the beach.  For over a decade now, stuff laid buried beneath the sand and presented no problems.  It would have been great if it had stayed that way.

  This afternoon, I made a quick hike around the hillside.  At one point, I noticed some broken glass in one of the washout places.  As I picked up glass, more became exposed.  Nigh on a gallon bucket of glass shards was in this one area.  I was a bit leery about being sliced by the shards so only those readily reachable were gathered.  Tomorrow, a rake, shovel and bucket will be put to use once again.  One thing that I have learned...it is smart to watch where you step.  Any one of these shards could have easily sliced right through my leather moccasin and punctured my foot.  Above is the first handful of shards that I retrieved on my walk.  I had to go back with a bucket to get more.

  Tomorrow's cleanup (over a decade after the fact) is in preparation of a special visitor to the Little Bayou House.  I will be fostering a dog while my son, daughter-in-law and grandbabies are away for an extended time.  I would hate to think that PJ might cut his foot while he is in my care.  I will have to keep a close watch where he runs....or maybe get him shoes!  Hmmm?  Now that is a thought!  Nah, a good scan of the lower part of the yard on a daily basis will solve the problem.  

I wonder......

  Sometimes I ponder about things that most folks would just ignore. For instance, just a few days ago, I pulled a piece of "trash" from the marsh.  It seems to be a never-ending job to keep the area clean.  Folks have a tendency to toss more things into the water as if they will just disappear.  It makes me sad to see such a mess so I use the boathook to fish things out and dispose of them properly.  This piece of trash was a bit different.  It had obviously been in the water for quite some time. Mud and barnacles had encrusted parts of the vinyl whatever-it-was-at-one-time. Presumably some hurricane, most likely Katrina, had deposited the article in the marsh. I am not real sure what in the world I was holding.  The piece was definitely some sort of vinyl (or plastic) but it could have been anything from a box to a purse or even just a notebook of some sort.  All I had was a flat piece of something decorated with blue dots and snowflake-looking designs.  I photographed the thing and discarded it as it was deteriorating with each touch.

  What caught my eye as unique was the fact that someone had labeled this item.  One of those punch label machines had been used to identify the item at one point. The name of Roxann Stockstill stood out in clear letters as did her address.  Wow!  This thing had traveled all the way here from Louisiana!  The address said Orchid Drive in Harvey, Louisiana.  That street is nearly a hundred miles from the Bayou! I wish that I had found this back before the elements took such a toll on the item.  Since it was identifiable, it would have been most grand to return the item to its owner.  Imagine the tales this thing could tell.  The sad part of the whole thing is the fact to have wound up in my Bayou, the home that once held the object must have been destroyed.  Waves must have carried the object over the distance and deposited it here.  I do hope Roxann remained safe and has since recovered from what must have been a devastating loss.  

  The power of hurricanes is astonishing.  The water and wind are things to be respected and most of us near coastlines understand this. Still, things happen...sometimes things that are not to our liking. Sometimes things can be downright devastating.  Roxann Stockstill, whoever and wherever you are, I pray that you are safe.  You have been on my mind for these past few days.