Last night it rained, gently at first then torrentially. I was surrounded by rain. I could hear it pound the windows and the roof. The air was thick and stilled by the humidity. I fell asleep to the rain.

This morning is cloudy and damp. The rain falls intermittently. It is 77°, the high for the day. Tonight will go down to the 60’s. The rest of the week will have similar weather. Hurricane Lee is in the news. Right now, whether it will hit Cape Cod is still uncertain, but we have been warned to expect “dangerous surf and rip currents” beginning Sunday. My mother would say it’s time to batten down the hatches.

My sister Moe was born just before Hurricane Edna wreaked its havoc in 1954. She was small, too small to leave the hospital, so they kept her. It was a good thing as we and thousands of others lost electricity. I remember sitting by the picture window watching the trees being blown. The biggest oak tree fell. It covered the road. We went out with my father during the eye of the storm to look at the tree. I remember how still the air was. At the end of the trunk we could see the dangling roots with dirt still clinging. Branches and debris covered the road. I was amazed that such a tree could fall. Forever after that storm, the empty spot near the corner across the street always reminded of what had stood there.

It has started raining again. I can hear it from the window behind me. That is Nala’s window. She loves leaning on the back of the couch to look out the screen. I don’t know what holds her interest. There are some trees, and you can see the side of the house next door, a rental, but no one is there.

I love living in New England. I love all four seasons, or at least parts of all four seasons. My favorite season is fall on Cape Cod. The weather is fine with warm days and cool nights. Only the weekends are busy with tourists. The roads are back to being ours. Oak tree leaves turn color. They turn a brown red, a deep color. Sugar maple trees, far fewer than the oak, are brilliant in the fall. Their leaves turn bright yellow. The low lying cranberry bogs have ripening fruits which turn the bogs into a display of red, a bright red. The harvest starts in mid to late September. I always stop to watch if I happen on a bog being harvested. The fall is long here on the cape. It lets us forget the short spring.

This entry was posted on September 12, 2023 at 12:57 pm and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.