Irene Sunday Cyclone

Yesterday was a long day. Filled with excitement, concern, anticipation. Filled with dramatically bad weather. And dramatically good weather. Oddly our electric power stayed on through the cyclone's visit. So I was able to watch TV and look at the storm's progress on the computer. Until the down cable took those things away. The eye passed abeam our house at 2:45 AM yesterday morning. It was forty miles from us. I got a few hours sleep. I got up at dawn and went out in the high wind. Wind as strong as anything I'd seen leading up to the eye. Maybe worse. The eye at dawn was now 50 miles north of it's abeam latitude but the winds were not subsiding. But I now knew it would get no worse. I stayed out of the house and in the weather from dawn to dark. At nine AM the winds had not let up and I hung out in the pole shed/hangar/lean to. The rain had stopped. But the wind made "rain" as it blew water everywhere. The wind sock was standing straight out and shifting in all directions. At ten AM the windsock showed little signs of bending down and swinging less. By 11 AM the sock had steadied to a less gusty west wind. The eye was now 90 miles north. My wife was going back and forth to the barn and pointed out a narrow band of blue sky on the southwest horizon. I stared at that for a long time. I was soaking up the sea change. The natural feeling you get when you feel the weather and you've been in the pace of the system. The altimeter I had sitting on the kitchen table showed the air pressure had gone up another tenth of an inch but I knew what it was going to say before I read it. Hour by wonderful hour and minute by minute the weather got slowly and steadily better. And I watched it and felt it. I started to pick up limbs. And branches. And twigs. I filled the pick up truck and emptied it several times. The wind was still blowing but ever lessening. At about 4 PM even the thin high cirrus overcast was breaking apart and the sun was shining. I sat down in the hangar on the couch in the "man cave". I slept for an hour. I had had six hours sleep in the last forty eight. When I got up from my nap, the sky was clear except for a band of cumulus low on the horizon out toward Ocean City. A final band of Irene to remind me of her immense size. The wind was calm. The sun starting to set. I opened hangar doors. I got out mowers. I got out cars. I got out the golf cart. I got out the big trash can. I did some mowing and a lot more picking up of sticks. It was one of the prettiest days I had ever seen. Before it got dark I went down to the ditch that runs as a stream thru my property. The state calls it a "branch" as it connects to the Choptank River. In the morning after the eye had passed the water in the ditch was just barely below the footbridge. Now before dark the water had dropped to about a foot lower than the bridge. My farm is saturated but not flooded. If another storm comes anytime soon, I will be flooded.
Now today as I write, I can't wait to get back outside. Into the refreshed atmosphere, the sunshine, the light breezes. I'll walk the airstrip and see how soggy it may be.

My wife invented a dessert called "hurricane cake". It was fabulous and we finished it off quickly. She is now making another one. It's time for our second pot of coffee. There is so much more I could say about the troubles of big Irene. But I probably won't.

I hope all you fellow east coasters fared well.

LLITTY .. .. :::::+:::::