Both the sky and atmosphere are eerily quiet and interesting. The birds on the fence look and act like they're at a wake. There are no cars speeding and splashing; the yards are absent of children. I am so sleepy I'm practically nodding off between sentences.
JC helped me cook up simple easy dishes in case we have to reheat food by candlelight. I even made a boxed (yick!) gingerbread, and will never do that again. I reminded him that we can heat our soup with the big Christmas candles, and even get in a grilled cheese if we have to in a pinch, but I believe we'll be good. He asked if I wanted to "go somewhere." I don't tolerate heat well, but trying to leave here would be a foolish thing to do.
Feels like I've cooked up a storm. Pun necessary. *grin* I had a dream about the storm and I remembered it after I woke. You know how we tend to forget dreams unless we write them first thing upon waking? Well, this dream was so fresh and clear, I still see the colors. I remember the yellow sky! I remember thinking how foolish everyone would feel, because nothing bad happened in the wake of all the urgings and disaster preparations. We dodged Harvey. That's what I woke to. To quote the Captain Jean-Luc Picard, "Data, make it so."
I watched "Unforgiven" for the umpteenth time last night so I figured it'd be great background noise for writing. I had to send something out ahead of the water--before the byways are too flooded to get mail in or out. One envelope turned into two with a postcard in between. Here, see for yourself.
I was paying way more attention to Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman than to what was going on before me, because I ended up addressing the notecard/letter! Then had to write backward/inside/forward. Then do the envelope. Fun is where you find it, right? I even added a little faux postage stamp from Flow, who almost always saves my bacon.
I saved this little alphabet for myself. L is for limner, as we well know, but it is the start for other lovely names as well. There's Lucy, Larry, Lisa, Liza, Lincoln, Luke, and Lycanthrope, just to name a few. This is from a series of photos of "things that look like our alphabet." Hope that explains it.
I love trees. And I enjoy watching trees we pass when we're out and about. JC drives and I get to eyeball things. Up close, some trunks look so painfully gnarled, twisted and put upon, yet they leaf and are fruitful, multiply and delight; they cast shade, enhance a breeze, shed their leaves as signs that signify something is going on. It might be they need a drink, need less to drink, are preparing for sleep . . . Trees love to gossip, and sing, dance, wave, holler, and don't expect it to rain dollars! So indeed I do believe that I will forever think that I shall never see a great big ole plant that's as lovely as a tree.
The temperature just dropped a notch. A clear sign that it's time for me to make like a bear. And hibernate, or pull out an afghan, and snuggle with Minuet. To everyone in the storm's path: Don't get wet unless you want to. I like walking in the rain too, but be safe. Use common sense. And to all who have loved ones in its path, send up good thoughts aka prayers. Be well.