Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Irma: Still no Power & An Ezra

We did a lot of work preparing for Irma.  A child of hurricanes, now living in rural middle Georgia preparations were surreal, much like the ridiculous episode of Dallas, when they had a hurricane.
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Irma came, gusts into mid 50 mph range.  No official speed yet.  Predicted gusts into 70+ mph did not materialize.  Rain gauge was an even 3".  Better than 7"-10" touted at the front end.
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Our power went out early Monday morning.  Still no power 48+ hrs later.  Instead, loud hum of the generator.  Never used a generator before.  Was lockstep with Beloved while he got the generator going.  From turning off the interior panel box, placement of generator, threading the thick generator cable thru the dryer vent, plugging it into the dryer socket, making sure the dryer fuse was off, then turning on the rest of the panel box, swoosh, power.
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Earlier this summer 2 fugitives killed a pair of policemen nearby.  They were loose for days.  Several counties slept with guns by the bed, Beloved included.  Drama, finally learned to shoot.  As the chase continued, it was discovered the fugitives stole a pick-up truck from the quarry a mile from our house.
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2017, the year I earned 2 new arrows for my quiver, running a generator & shooting a gun.  


Pic, above, here.
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During Irma preparations on our property, tired, almost done, saw something on the harvest table, 'What has Beloved put on the table I've already cleared?'  Walking past, I knew it could become a projectile.  Went back, started to lean in, clear eyed, not tired anymore, an 18" water moccasin napping, or whatever, owning the space.  Immediately called Beloved, he was in the Caterpillar at the back of the property.  Big cavalry arrived at full speed.  He climbed down from that Caterpillar, grabbed a shovel, did the deed.  At some point soon, I know it's coming, snake dispatch.  Not the good ones, they can go about their business.



Pic, above, here.
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At the peak of Irma gusting Beloved went into the back kitchen/laundry and discovered water running from the ceiling.
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We knew before going outside what happened, roofing peeled off in the winds.
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Beloved ran for the ladder, raining, winds gusting 50+ mph, dodging huge fallen limbs, running in the odd pattern of our pecan tree drip lines, managing not to snap an ankle with the chunky bumper crop of pecans now all on the ground, a hornets nest next to the exact ladder he needed, he's allergic, getting back to the deck/roof/me.  Ladder retrieved, not quite enough, he had to go back for the extension ladder.
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Three shade umbrellas had been stowed in a shed, their 30 lbs bases still on the deck.  With Beloved on the roof, raining, winds gusting 50+ mph, I marched up the ladder 3 times, and he placed those bases on the roof.  Agreed, stupidest part of our actions/story.
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Has it caught your attention, in the news, anyone over 50 is 'elderly' in most stories?  That would be me, and Beloved wildly elderly, over 60.  When you're middle class, and elderly, this is what you do, fix your own roof during a raging storm.  Both of us wearing work boots.  Saw a pic of almost a dozen looters in a Florida jail Monday with a great caption, "Not a pair of work boots among them."
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Late Monday Beloved 'had' to go investigate our hamlet in middle rural Georgia.  We got in his truck, chain saw in back.  Areas were pristine, or a debris field.  On schedule, he came to a pine tree in the road.  Not a problem, a few cuts later, tossing chunks to the side, the road clear.  Beloved also helped others prepare for Irma.  Some, Millenials.  He's a good man, elderly helping the young.  (Ok, will try to leave it alone but such a piquant lagniappe.)
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Odd, it must be the Texas in me, I don't want Beloved 'having' to take care of me.  Would rather him go help others, he's got the know-how and tools, and the heart of a helper, an Ezra. He's too valuable a resource during emergencies to help only '1'.  Hence, learning to run a generator, shoot a gun, and determined to kill my own poisonous snakes.
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T
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Growing up on Galveston Bay in the 1960's, during hurricanes, looters were shot, dead.  Last nite with entire town blacked out, oh my the stars, and Milky Way.  It's not often I can navigate by the mercury lite of the Milky Way.    
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Chickens back in their coop late yesterday morning, gifted me with an egg not much later.
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Hamlet?  Noticed long ago, in the NYTimes, how a story would lean, always predicated by the descriptor of the town.  Perhaps, 'In this agricultural town past its prime....', 'In the pastoral historic district......', 'In the unkempt pastures......', 'Nestled in the rolling Piedmont hills......', 'At the edge of the interstate....', 'In the place they call Mayberry.....'     Yes, all of these could be used for my dear 'hamlet', dozens more......
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Before hurricane Harvey my sister went to the other side of Houston, to evacuate my mother who lives on salt water.  Mom refused.  Sister had to leave, or get stuck.  Sister's side of Houston had to evacuate, she went to Huntsville, TX.  Her stress at evacuation, plus, having left mom, off the charts.  Once I was phoned about the split, my stress hit the charts, I phoned mom's local police department.  Incredibly helpful/kind, they also let me know, once the storm hit, they would not be going on rescues, too dangerous.  Rightfully so.  My phone/email were put on mom's police department emergency updates, huge help.  Thank you, Nassau Bay Police Department.
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The memo is clear with these storms, especially, Irma.  Beloved is an Ezra, and my job is to be his Ezra, while he's performing on the macro stage.  Don't want him worried about me or spending his macro-Ezra-time with me, when he can be helping those truly in need.
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My grandmother came from a large farm family in Robeson county, NC.  The farm a land grant from King George.  Still, owned by family.  I never met her dear oldest brother Ezra.  An RN, my grandmother was at her brother Ezra's bedside when he died.  When he lifted up in bed, and began talking to their parents, smiling, eyes clear, voice strong & happy, grandma knew there was no known medical possibility of him doing just that.  Their parents long dead, Ezra's body infirm & diseased.  Ezra was gone moments later, after his head lay back on the pillow.  I grew up with this story, and a strong curiosity about this Ezra who grandma loved/admired so much.  Ezra, from the bible, means, helper.    
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Made first outing this afternoon, to the dump, and post office.  Nice to get some loud rock, performing the mundane, traveling far in my head with U2, One Love.
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Praying for those affected by Irma & Harvey.  In thanks to those who help/rescue/aid.

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