Power came back to my part of Connecticut last night.
The four-day loss of electricity was nothing compared to the heart-rending losses suffered by millions caught in the huge path of storm Sandy. Lyn and I marveled at our good fortune, noting no property damage, just downed branches here and there, along with the usual spoiled food that must be thrown away.
The words and images about this catastrophe remind us again that awesome storms are great levelers: in some ways, the rich and influential are rendered as helpless as the poor and those of meager influence. Too, the non-stop reports illustrate how difficult it is to tell such a huge story, to show the scope of colossal destruction, misery – and fear about the future. The best that can be done by news media and by officials is reporting on and responding to pieces of this massive event; the whole of it is too much to digest. Where we go from here is daunting to contemplate.
But a storm like Sandy makes it impossible to ignore future possibilities. So, belatedly, planners talk of futuristic-looking sea walls to protect coastlines and updated electrical grids to avoid massive outages. Moreover, officials are daring to speak of climate change and its connection to record-setting temperatures and increasingly powerful storms. This offers a glimmer of hope that humans aren't totally bent on hastening our demise.
Meanwhile, illustrating the unusual nature of weather these days, two oddities occurred: in a brief appearance several days ago, light glowed in a color we’d never seen around here: a yellow ochre, like looking through mustard.
Then, the day after, the blue sky, the white clouds and the sunrays lined up as if to punctuate the aftermath of Sandy – and forecast the next big storm:
|Early morning, western sky.|