One day last week

Last Wednesday in Maine it poured.  It was 50 degrees warmer than it had been two days before, and the snow disappeared overnight.  Thursday morning we awoke to 50 mph wind gusts that felt magical.  The energy in the air was contagious and we stood on the front porch at 7 am in our pajamas watching the clouds whip across the sky, and the trees bending from their hips.  I moved the car way from one suspicious looking subject (still standing, though not for long).   Five minutes later the power went out.  

 

 

 

I love how quiet everything is when the power is out.  All of the white noise from the overhead fan on the stairs, the refrigerator, the lights--its all gone.  The only sound, other than the children, was the wind.  We made a few trips to the stream for buckets of water for toilet flushing.  We let the chickens out.  We very nearly got hit by this huge branch falling in our yard.  After that we decided no one was allowed off the porch until the wind quieted.   We lost several branches, a few small trees, and one big white cedar that we are sad to see gone, split in half about 20 ft. up.
Some of us were thrilled to wear vests in place of snowsuits and running shorts with red boots.  Why not?

 

 

We checked out the muddy sand box, and got out the kids' bikes to tour the neighborhood for damage.
We had leftovers for lunch and ice cream that was threatening to melt in our freezer.    

  

It was a strange day for January.  There is something magical and wild in a wind like that, and in a day so drastically different from the season.   It was a welcome change to the single digits from just days before, but also a quiet reminder of the shifts in the weather we've been noticing over the past few years.  Its both beautiful and concerning.
It is cold again this week, but the bare ground and blue sky seem distinctly summer-like if you look past the leafless trees.  I'm feeling a little unsettled by it all.  The hope I feel when I watch my children as they grow, and the sense of defeat I feel when I think of the world we're leaving for their children is hard to reconcile.  
Its fine to recycle and drive less, but in the face of tornadoes in New Englad and shorts in January it can be discouraging.
In the meantime I'll do my best to "be the change I want to see in the world", and enjoy these summer like days as gifts--and move the car as often as necessary to avoid the falling trees.