Standing Steady

December 30, 2018

Standing Steady

Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come. --Robert H. Schuller

There was a huge windstorm while we were away. We normally don't get a lot of "weather" on Vancouver Island apart from rain and forest fires, so when the wind comes it creates plenty of havoc. This storm was horrendous, apparently the worst storm in twenty years. It blew down trees and power lines and knocked out power for a couple of days. Some folks still are without power, and it's been almost a week and a half.

And of course, this is the year when we purchased a house surrounded by big, beautiful trees.

To say that I worried would be somewhat accurate. I was actually rather numb... just bracing myself for the idea that I'd have a roof to replace or some skylights to repair, that I'd have to find somewhere to live in the meantime and that I'd have to figure out the insurance and deductibles and extra expenses...

And then we got home and all was quiet. Not a thing had moved, not even that stupid decorative wok I left sitting on the patio table:

Seymour and I have been walking around town checking out the damage. He's quite the inspector: thorough and methodical. He will stop to examine just about anything out there, especially if it's something he can pee on:

There's a randomness to all of this: a stand of trees with all of the tops whipped off, and then a stand of trees perfectly intact right next to them. A house with every other fence panel destroyed, while the 6-foot fence next door stands straight and true. The chain link fence at the baseball diamond completely bent over with the sail-like force created by the plywood adverts bolted to it, but the community garden next door looks like it's about to burst into bloom. As I trotted along on the treadmill at the gym this morning, my eyes kept scanning the window as my brain tried to figure out what was missing. I finally realized the huge cedar tree across the way had fallen over and I could see right through to the yard next door.

I feel fortunate but uncomfortable, creeping along through the day so as not to anger the gods in case they visit me with their wrath. The hubby says we can't live in fear and we can't eliminate all of the risks, but I'd be lying if I wasn't revisiting the idea of at least thinning out some of the branches out there.

I have a few days off until I go back to work, and I find myself feeling fragile yet idle. I find myself bracing for the next emergency to run to, so much so that I feel frozen and numb. And yet, I knit... because my fingers feel like the surest tools I have. I'm feeling pretty good about this vest, which is now so different from the original pattern that I've ceased to call it by the original name. It's really just another one of my experiments now.

I've got it to the point where I've finished the back and I've gone back to work on each side. I am ninety percent sure it's going to work out, but we'll see how it goes. I am somewhat irked by the fact that I've joined a new ball of yarn and it's slightly darker than the rest of the work. The light in the photo really emphasizes this. A pro knitter would have anticipated this and alternated skeins during the work... but this is not a pro knitter talking. Maybe I'll luck out and the dye will kind of mix around when I block it. Or maybe not: