I opened McKinsey & Company’s daily email digest to read, “Resilient organizations prepare for the storms…” They were referring to metaphorical storms, but I laughed, because I’ve done nothing for the past 24 hours except prepare for what will possibly be the first hurricane to make landfall in Maine since 1969.
While I’m a dab hand at blizzards, I have no experience with hurricanes. I usually consult the Bible when faced with the unknown, but building an ark is impractical. Instead, I read the advice in our local papers and consulted my buddy Sarah, who hails from Louisiana.
My outdoor gallery doesn’t usually close this early. However, it is in a tent, and by nature not wind-proof. My husband and I wrapped and packed and toted, removed the interior display walls, and finally dropped the canvas at 8 PM on Wednesday.
My arms and legs were aching. Our neighbor Paul ambled over and helped Doug move the dinghy and canoe to a spot between the garage and shed. That timely assistance was precious; I couldn’t lift another thing.
“How heavy does something have to be to stop it from being a projectile in 70 MPH winds?” my friend Linda asked. She lives in Stonington, which is more exposed than Rockport. “The big fear here is a breach of the causeway,” she added. That would effectively cut Deer Isle off from the mainland.
I’m just a few hundred feet from the ocean, but there’s heavily-wooded land between us and the sea. I’ve spent years saying we need a targeted hurricane to improve our view. The fancy houses are the ones below us, with the woods acting as a barrier between them and the hoi polloi, by which I mean me.
Last Christmas, my buddy Dave answered an emergency call in Owls Head. It wasn’t even a tropical storm, just a garden-variety gale. It breached the seawall, causing extensive damage to his clients’ house. Watching that unfold, I was cured of any desire to own waterfront property. We’re sitting pretty in an old farmhouse on a bluff high above the sea. Our ancestors weren’t as naive as we are. They built their fishing shacks and boat houses at the water’s edge and their homes higher up.
That doesn’t mean I can ignore the storm warnings. High winds, especially coming off the water, can cause lots of damage. We’ve had an extraordinarily wet summer which has resulted in tree stress. Squishy ground, a lot of pines and spruces with shallow roots, stressed trees and high winds-what could go wrong?
I protested at putting away the patio furniture, as September is the loveliest month of the year here. Instead, we lashed it together and put weights on it. The grill gazebo is dismantled, and all our planters are sheltering under the edge of the house. That, I think, makes us ‘shipshape and Bristol fashion.’
Meanwhile, our harbormasters are asking anyone who can, to haul their boats out now. Dinghies are coming out of the water; so are floating docks. Acadia National Park will close their ring roads and campgrounds tomorrow morning.
“Pray for the best and prepare for the worst,” as they say. We’ve done our best.
My 2024 workshops:
- Painting in Paradise: Rockport, ME, July 8-12, 2024.
- Sea & Sky at Schoodic, August 4-9, 2024.
- Find your authentic voice in plein air: Berkshires, August 12-16, 2024.
- Art and Adventure at Sea: Paint Aboard Schooner American Eagle, September 15-19, 2024.
- Immersive In-Person Workshop: Rockport, ME, October 7-11, 2024.
Good luck, Carol, with weathering the storm. Thankfully, right now , it’s only a category 1. We went through several hurricanes in Florida, when I was growing up. (any ‘Carols’?? 🙂 Back then we filled the bathtub with water. I don’t think bottled water was a thing yet.