We’re in the throes of a northeaster now; public radio down in Seattle was all fussed about it, telling us we have snow up here (apparently in town – we have special island weather). I watched it come in on the mainland this morning, very dark and beautiful with distinct edges to the cloud, and rain reaching down and combing its way across the foothills. It’s very impressive, and some people get a little freaked out, but…it’s a storm. There’s no smell of snow, which can really trap us out here: no snowplows. And the ferry stops sometimes in this weather (I rode it once with 70 m.p.h. gusts – supposedly – alternately screaming curses and crossing myself. I like to cover my bases.) But as I said, if it’s bad enough, the crew won’t go, and we’re all forced to stay home. I do enjoy that.
What we have now is noise. The wind keeps some people awake all night, and I have wind chimes outside that ring nonstop and add to my pleasure in the storm, although they seem to put me to sleep. I will get up in the morning and hang quilts over the windows, to block both the drafts and some of the noise, but tonight I like the roar and the wildness.
Rebecca came over today and helped me get my house under control, and it’s starting to look ready for winter – every available surface is heaped with pillows and blankets, my yarn is properly contained, and I have little lights up: white in the bedroom, and amber in the rest of the house. (One of my friends was just enchanted by the amber lights last year; she told me they made my home look like an Alaskan bordello. And she would know.) I also found my Italian crèche, glued the third wise man back together, and let my daughter put it up. It’s her Christmas dollhouse, which is why baby Jesus has lost a foot, but I used to do exactly the same thing with the one that belonged to my mother. I loved it just as much as the tree.