The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of autumn.
The Pacific Northwest has been anticipating a “historic” windstorm for the past four days, comparable to the west coast “Columbus Day” storm of 1962. I remember that storm vividly as an eight year old in Olympia, as the wind gusts were clocked at over 140 mph. Large fir trees toppled over like toothpicks in the woods all around our house. The root balls stood 15 feet tall, headstones over a mass of tree graves. We lived without power for at least a week, losing all our stored food in our freezer and depending on canned goods, a camp stove and kerosene lights and hot dogs roasted over our fireplace.
When the predictions came for a similar strength storm last week, like millions of others in the region, I dutifully prepared by storing up water, getting a battery operated radio ready and counting up my canned goods. We waited, en masse, for the monster to storm into our yards.
The lights flickered a few times, but the winds were meager in comparison to our usual storms.
Some people were disappointed, having geared up for “the big one.”
I’m among the relieved this morning, having aged past the desire for an adventure without power, and today my cares have dropped away like the leaves that let go to settle silent for the winter.