Hun`ker Down (v.): To Take shelter, literally or figuratively; to assume a defensive position to resist difficulties.
|I found this little guy on my stoop the day before the hurricane.|
Seems to be a theme around our homestead this week - Hunkering Down. First a 5.9 Earthquake on Tuesday and now a Category 2 Hurricane. And just incase you're not keeping score - God: 2. People: 0.
The earthquake on Tuesday was a first for our family and rattled more than the foundation. When the house started to shake, I assumed that the washer was out of balance, but the problem was that no laundry was in the wash and the shaking escalated. I stood up from my perch at the table (working remotely that day) and started to yell for Ben, unable to comprehend WHAT was happening. Ben unfortunately was taking a shower, and the impact tossed him from wall-to-wall, forcing him to abandon the bath. His experience on the 4th floor was vastly different than mine, seeing that the house was swaying side to side. Freaky. Immediate. Complete.
Insert second act of God within a week: hurricane Irene. This activity seems to be more our speed - wet, windy, and a system that gives us enough time to prepare.
|The banana bread was supposed to be for the weekend, but at 8am, only 2" remain. Tested this recipe and added 1/2 C of chopped nuts and 1/2 C mini morsels. Heaven!|
Ben completed preparing the boats by Friday morning, and we took cover with a house full of water and food and of friends and activities. I wanted to make a Dark & Stormy in honor, but strawberry shortcake seems to be more my speed.
I won't lie. It was fanDAMNtastic.
What I learned from the hurricane experience is not that we can easily weather a storm, but how much we as a community seemed to struggle without power. We were unplugged for 2 days - no power, no warm showers, no internet. When I camp, I expect the unplugged factor and relish it. Not so much with a house. I do not like the sense of camping out in a modern abode. It's just not my thing, and after a couple of days, the lack of conveniences compounded with PMS lead me to believe that everyone driving near me was a moron…but power is restored and so are healthy attitudes.
(Thanks to Shannon and Mark for inviting us over last night for power, showers, food, and internet.)
We are still taking in our bounty. My windowsill is lined with tomatoes, and this week we enjoyed some carmelized sauteed carrots. Mmm..
I still have much to learn about veggie gardening, including why a crop of beets just fail to swell. But the tomatoes delivered this year. I lost count of the number of salads made with tomato, basil, & mozzarella in the past week, and after making sauce from scratch, I'm scheming to get my hands on a bushel of tomatoes in the next few weeks.
Our August Saturday nights have been simply amazing, breathtaking. Mild evenings filled with golden sun, laughter, & low humidity; a rare treasure of atmosphere.
|Captain Fabulous behind the grill.|
I simply adore my nieces. I still can't believe they're almost grown up, and here I've held them since they were infants. We enjoyed time spent running through the woods, conversing (be that it's mature or immature topics), sailing, and swimming. But where I see the shift is that it's less about teaching them and more about being there for them. Sarah alone will be 16 in a week. Wow.
They love their littlest cousin who is finally less of a baby and more of a girl.
And that girl shares a special bond. She's a magician at making this strong man so vulnerable.
Last weekend Jana & Mike visited. Really, I don't need a reason to invite gaggles of friends over to enjoy, but hey, I'll say that Jana & Mike were my excuse.
Jana and Alex.
I love Jana's big, full-of-life, relaxed heart.
And watching friends making new connections.
And seeing kids absorb a summertime experience in their own unique manner.
Maybe it's the end of summer or the realization that that Alex is starting preschool next week. But I'm becoming so sentimental about this moment in time.
Taking cues from Alex, I want to fold summer into my pocket, squirreling it away with a treasure of stones, shells, and pennies; only to unwrap it in January, preserving and enjoying the essence of the present.