Life seemed still, and perfect, and beautiful. Warm water swims off the deck, long runs, stunning views and then the wind came. Slowly at first and then all of a sudden out of nowhere, everything seemed to shift. The seas started to build, the restaurants took down their tables, and everyone ran inside. At first, the waves were small, and then they gradually grew higher and higher and higher. As you may have noticed from the last post, our house is very close to the water. By noon the waves were crashing on the side wall and threatening to hit the door. By one the first floor with our kitchen was flooded, and every new wave brought in more water and gifts from the sea. Seaweed, sand, and saltwater rolled in despite everything being completely closed up and towels under the doors. The third-floor windows got drenched with ocean spray through the storm shutters, and the whole house sounded like a machine as the air rushed through every crack the ancient building. We turned off the electricity as the water rolled in and hunkered down (and got caught up on the blog!). We used data to search if there was some evacuation warning but just high wind and lightning warnings. We will see if we can take the ferry tomorrow to get Traverse’s parents.

As I write, it is settling down a bit, and we have a mess to clean up downstairs. A big cold front is moving in and the temperatures are predicted to plummet for the foreseeable future. As it settled down, Traverse went out for a run, and said it was the most intense run of his life. At times he felt like he was running backwards with the wind pushing so hard against him, other times he was Husain Bolt being pushed along, always with the chance of ocean spray drenching him and the road.

It was a powerful reminder, watching this glass blue ocean turn into a wrecking ball, the power of nature and the unpredictably of life. Our plans change, we adjust and are grateful for the fact the floods that swamp us today are ones that can be mopped up tomorrow.