Our Southern Home

    We called our Florida neighbor from our home in Maine after Ian's landfall a few months ago. Our entire Southern neighborhood was directly under the eye of the hurricane.  We visited for the first time yesterday after a 30-hour drive down the east coast.

    "Hey, how are things looking down there?" We asked the former Mainer who keeps an eye on our property when we are in New England.  

    The neighbor said, "I think there's something wrong with your dock. Oh wait, I think that's a piece of your fence."

    Beyond grateful that our house didn't flood. We are on a canal, but by good luck, and the grace of God, we are above the flood plane. It will be a working winter, replacing our roof, our fence, our garage door, having somebody reconstruct the bathroom wall that was damaged by rainfall and then gutted by Servpro to prevent mold. Our aging pool deck is green with vegetation as if the lawn is trying to reclaim it's space around the pool in the backyard. The surrounding cage roof has holes and tears everywhere thanks to Ian launching debris in random directions. The metal and mesh pool cage door is stuck permanently open, as if the will of God crumpled it up in his or her hand.

    But for now, I'm glad our trek was a was safe despite a deluge all the way from Maine to Virginia and one hour-long wait on I-75 near Georgia because a car spontaneously burst into flames and was the color of fireplace dust as we drove by.  

    Having a moment of peace, drinking coffee on the weirdly green deck which looks like a tiny forest under foot, with my flip flops on and before the cleanup begins.