The white spot is a half moon... >
3:27 pm, Friday 9 December, she walks out of the Wired Puppy with a grin on her face, holding the regular post-walkies treat: Medium Mocha, No Whipped Cream (Note Initial Caps For Emphasis). She's just been talking to the barista-person about weather, because today in Provincetown it is the thing to talk about. It feels like she's heard a hurricane is supposed to behave... rainy stormy weather with trees bowing down under the strain of it, followed by a lull. And a big dirty sky hanging over the east end of town meanwhile, just biding its time. She doesn't have to wait long.
Here's a picture of the rainbow that appeared in 'the lull'Halfway up the half-mile between the post office (some of you are getting postcards soon!!) and Wired Puppy, the rain starts. She loves it. As she passes the mouths of alley ways the wind nearly bowls her over. She giggles out loud and hangs on to her hat and clutches the plastic bag with padded postbags in it tightly to her chest. What fun!
And then she gets to the Wired Puppy and has the Weather Conversation. Her hurricane idea is dismissed peremptorily. What is apparently going on, says the barista is that there's a storm coming in this direction (he sticks his arm out) and there's another storm coming from over here (he crosses his first arm with the second arm) and then there's a bit where the two meet--that's the lull we just had, he says confidently. Makes about as much sense to her as a hurricane, so she nods and they have a little extra chat about the length of the days. They are short. At 3:27 it's nearly over... just over half an hour to go before the sun dips over the horizon.
The lights dim.
She leaves, waving. As she crosses the street, clutching not only the plastic bag with padded postpaks, but also a coffee, the snow starts. It stings exposed skin. What she doesn't know is taht the wind is travelling at somewhere between 35 and 60 miles per hour. That's the mile that is 1.62 kilometres in length. As they say in this blessed country... 'Do the math'
So she walks up Dyer Street (her normal route) and by the time she's half way up the street, she's squealing. Half delight, half (a little bit) scared. oooooohhhhh... the wind is blowing, the snow is stinging, she can hardly put one foot in front of the other. Visibility: approx. not a lot.
Up the stairs to her little pad. Notes screen door has been blown almost off its hinges... opens main door. Goes in side. Warm little pad. Dark little pad. Pulls the light cord. Dark little pad.
Power's off. Remember the lights dimming?
The wind howls and it gets darker. Snow is blown so hard against her front windows that she can't see the street and must look out the side windows. She lights candles and puts Robyn's crocheted rug over her knees. Reads by two candles and remembers what it felt like without power in the bush as a kid. Feels the room getting colder.
The phones work so she checks weather.com (gotta love the lappy with a charged battery!!) The wind is supposed to abate by midnight-ish (it did!). It is supposed to get down to -1 C and Saturday is supposed to be a sunny 3 degrees celcius (39 F). Walkies in store for us, methinks!
At 4:16, the power came back on, and it's now 5:53. She's sitting up in bed writing (well she actually ducked out to the kitchen to top up the coffee cup so that's why I thought I'd give you a quick update.
She loves heating. She loves electricity. She loves life. Billie Holiday is playing in her earphones. It's Saturday 10 December, and all is well in Provincetown.That final picture is Snug Cottage across the road... looking pretty in the snow.
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