Still on the Quest

Oddly enough, the neighbor's wind chimes, which I wasn't hearing earlier today, are all jangly and noisy now, at ten at night. Interesting...


ETA: Yes, a small foray into the dark and occasionally starlit night (hey, Deneb!) proves that the wind is windier now than it was a few hours ago. It has, however, forgotten to decide which direction to come from. (Although the tattered clouds above the city are moving mostly from the southwestish towards the northeastish corner of the sky.)

Big storm. Maybe not as fierce as some, but big.

And looking at the news I see trees down all over the state, but my little corner of the world seems to have gotten through with just a whole lotta leaves down. Of course, we lost all the weakest tree limbs to a thunderstorm about a week ago, so that might explain it.

Compared to the rest of the summer it's gotten darn cold though!

East Boston is still fairly unexciting. Which I can live with. Definitely gusty out there and the trees up about the third floor are doing a lot of moving around, but at street level (at least by my front door) it's not too bad. Raining, yes, but when I check the radar it seems like I'm always in the dry spot.

Sounds like NYC has cleared the worst of it, even though the East River and Hudson both flooded. I was amusing myself by watching the live feed of some poor bunny who didn't know he was still on the air after his report, and was doing things like asking the names of the anchors he was going to be talking to in Oakland next. "Don, right, with a D? No John. Got it..."

A little rain, the wind picking up but not bad. I walked down to the harbor and the whitecaps are definitely starting. Cloud layer is so low half of downtown is missing. I'm going to see if I can get the camera to work and try to get a picture of Old Ironsides across the water...

(I'm updating my LJ so if the power goes out my sister in Colorado can see what's been happening, btw. It's easier than making a gazillion phone calls.)

6 a.m. and so far Boston is pretty calm. Looks like Western Mass and the Hudson River valley are getting dumped with rain, though. And the NHC cone has Boston right on the 90% line for tropical storm force winds, and well into the sixty percent range for 50 knot winds. (Only five to ten percent for hurricane force winds, but there's still one model that wants to bring the storm my way.)

I'm going to go back to sleep.

Spent my morning helping tie down everything at Community Boating. Which was fun, but work. And now I should be cooking in case of a power outage etc. etc... and all I want to do is sleep. Maybe a nap, Irene?

Sooo, I'm driving down to Albuquerque for a wedding, and after a lovely side trip to a volcano near Raton, I notice that it's raining here and there. And pretty soon there are a few spatters on the windshield. And then a few more. And then somewhere, someone dumped over a Very Large Bucket and visibility dropped to really really not very far at all. Quite exciting!

( And then it got a little TOO exciting. )

Just woke up and did the Oh-Dark-Thirty shovelling of my tiny scrap of sidewalk. It really isn't a lot of concrete to worry about, except that my house faces north and is in the middle of the row, so this time of year the front walk is perpetually in shadow. If you don't keep it clear, icebergs form out there, and taunt you with your puny muscles and plastic implements should you be foolish enough to think you can remove them before the city fathers descend with grim satisfaction to leave you a twenty-five dollar ticket.

Not that I'd be the one to pay it, mind. I rent, and there are people upstairs who own. But I also am on the first floor, and have made myself acquainted with the little old ladies and gentlemen down the street whose necks are on the line. So I shovel.

Sometimes, it's an exercise in futility -- or seems to be. This is one of those storms where the snow keeps packing up against the side of the house, and up the front stairs, and even all the way up the doorjamb, so that when you open the door there's a crust of the cold stuff that hangs there like some kind of mad arctictect's idea of cleverness. "Look, if we make the doorway a more Interesting Shape, you can impress people with you agility as you leap past the layers!"

Or knock the snow off with your broom, whichever.

Then, of course, you have to unbury the steps. I am seriously envious of the people next door, who spent money this year to add a second door at the bottom of their steps. It's not an uncommon thing to do -- I'd say that more than half of the buildings on this side of the street have enclosed their entryways. But we haven't, so the shovel has to be employed before you can even take a step outside.

The wind, the way it is tonight, won't let you close the door properly if you've forgotten your keys. You can see it sending snow skirling up into the hall, like Marley's ghosts skittering up to go see Scrooge. Best to shovel quick, and get back inside.

One step, two, three, four. I shoveled before I went to bed and cleared these steps, but you'd never know it. The wind has drifted the snow into piles so deep that not even boots would save me if I were fool enough to step into one of the delicate shapes.

Which are HEAVY! For all that the wind is pushing the snow around like it might be the powdery kind, truth is, this close to the ocean, the snow has plenty of moisture. Just clearing the steps has me puffing a bit. Thank goodness for nice long heavy scarves.

The wind has actually cleared half the sidewalk, almost to the pavement, but that means more has piled up beside the building. I go along, breaking up the drift and pitching it out to where the wind picks it up. I'm only clearing half the sidewalk tonight. Boston has funny rules. If you don't shovel, you get fined, but if you throw the snow into the street, you get fined more. Not really a problem at the moment. Give this stuff a bit of loft and it instantly becomes someone else's mess. The wind is worse than the snow right now. I'm halfway along the walk when a gust picks up and tries to lift me and my shovel along with the snow. It's all I can do to just stand and wait for it to ease up, watching the snow swirl away down the street and pile up against trees and cars and other people's steps.

By the time I get to the end of my stretch of sidewalk -- and we're talking about a stretch that I can walk on a normal day in fewer than four seconds -- there is already a thin layer of snow on the steps. I dash inside and catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror. My coat is coated with snow, and so are my hat and scarf. My hands are mumbling imprecations at me -- next time I better remember my mittens.

But at least inside it is warm. And quiet. If I listen now I can hear the wind. It's so muffled by snow I'd underestimated it before I went out, but I've got it's measure now. Time to crawl back under the covers and wait for the alarm to go off once again. I expect by then, the stairs will be buried and all. But I don't mind. I've already seen what the neighbors' walks look like, and I'm well ahead of the game.

Let it snow!

Thank heavens for the invention of laptop computers. I can sit here, connected via air instead of wire, and amuse myself looking at radar, while one of the loudest thunderstorms of my recent experience bangs and flashes and rumbles and booms overhead.

And wonder, of course, as I count "one-onethouand, two-onethousand, etc...", how people who think in kilometers measure the distance to the lightning by the arrival of the thunder? (So far tonight, my closest was "one-onethou...BOOM!" I may jump out of my skin entirely yet!)

I went and saw The Revels today, knowing I'd meet a friend who was also there and I turned out to be sitting just above her and two rows back (although there was a drop, so I didn't find her till intermission. Of course, by that time I'd got myself got caught up in the long line of dancers heading out into the lobby, singing "Lord of the Dance" with the rest, so I was pretty happy already.

After the second half, we went with her and her mom and some of her mom's friends (none of whom I'd met before) to Legal Seafood, where I stuffed myself on scrod and talked entirely too much on cats, knitting, and Roxbury Puddingstone. Fortunately, they were all lovely people and put up with me, but I came home still giddy from good music and good company. Good thing I don't drink!

Trying to find rock salt in preparation for tonight/tomorrow's storm brought me down with a thump. Nine bucks for ten pounds! But I couldn't find it anywhere else within walking distance and it's cold out there...

Oh, well, I have leftovers in the refrigerator, a pile of new Revels CDs (because I utterly failed my resistance roll) and the prospect of a day when it will be a virtue to sit inside and drink hot chocolate...

*wanders off to listen to the weathercasters panic for a little while before she goes to sleep*