Oh, will the lightening stop? It rumbles and careens across the sky. My linen curtains which normally dance gently in the breeze through my wide French doors now blow in fury, whipping into the room in a torrid rage, tangling and encompassing me as I pass through the room. The sky is white, the rain pours freely and fiercely. The bolts flash just off the seashore and frighten me. I am not able to count one second before the thunder clatters, all-consuming and earth shattering. Little Barley, my protector, who would stand up to the most menacing of characters, cowers under the bed. When she gets the urge to peek out from her safe haven, she huddles over my feet, not leaving my side. The lamp flickers and dims until it finally ceases. The back-up surge protector box starts its annoying beep…beep…beep, reminding me that it in spite of the loss of power, it continues its duty of charging our precious electronics. Boo to the electronics. I switch the beeping off.


The rain lets, the sky breaks, the wind dies to its leisurely breezy state. The air is cool and clean, the sand and soil of the outdoor living spaces are washed away.

Late into the evening the power goes in and out. Thank heavens for the ancient propane stove. I cook dinner with my trusty headlamp strapped to my forehead. Candles are lit and flicker in the breeze. Do not depend on power or water, not in the out-islands. The quiet is soothing. No refrigerator humming, no fans whirring.

At last the power returns. AC is cranked for a cool night’s sleep. Fans cut through the humid air. Our modern comforts march on.