Sometime awhile back, and somewhere in the middle of reading Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, I read the line “The farmer has to work twice as hard as the hog,” and I plucked that little gem from the literary tree to share with you one day. And wouldn’t you know it, here we are.
Waaay back in memory was October of 2024; the month of back-to-back hurricanes. Helene and Milton.
Perhaps you remember. Perhaps you are among the many that will remember for a long time to come. Count me in the latter group as well.
I lived my first 26 years in Florida and don’t remember storms of the magnitude and severity of those that have roared past since my return to the Sunshine State in 1993, but a quick internet search reveals that neither the number of storms nor the severity thereof, has really changed in the last hundred years. Here, we have yet another reminder to beware of the natural tendency to give added significance, or bias, to recent events.
Those ten(ish) years away from Florida were spent in Salt Lake City and punctuated by memorable weather events.
In 1983, we had a heavy snowpack; winter lingered, and spring arrived on a Wednesday only to make way for summer by about Saturday of that week. The rapid snowmelt overwhelmed the storm sewers, and State Street became a sandbag-bordered river for a month. The closing year of my Utah sojourn was a year of record snowfall in the valley, with up to 15’ of snow laid down. I had to shovel my roof to avoid potential collapse – it was even money on which collapsed first: me or the roof. The roof survived intact, and me, well I’m here today. Or at least some significant fraction thereof.
I, like many of my friends and neighbors in Polk County, Florida, believe some mischievous spirit painted an “X” on my roof in 2004 when hurricanes Charlie, Frances, and Jeanne seemed to cross paths directly over my house. I lost my roof during Charlie, and the rain poured in over the next two storms. Perhaps I am the Joe Btfsplk of this story.
Or perhaps not.
Hurricane Helene was a non-event for us at my house in September. My brother in Hendersonville, NC, has a much different story to tell. He was out of power for eight days and spent all eight of those days running a chainsaw to cut up downed trees in his yard. He left “the big stuff” for the pros; they should be showing up any day now.
Milton was a different story at my house.
We had a LOT of wind. It was ripping across Lake Pierce and just after dark, progressively larger oak limbs started hitting the roof and windows. The good news is that all the limbs and debris stayed outside, and we stayed dry inside. Power went off about 10 o’clock the night of the storm and didn’t return for just about 46 hours … to the minute.
My generator, which I inherited from my father upon his passing in 2012, worked every year until 2024. It wasn’t needed during Helene, but a few days after the passing of the storm, some dunderhead ran into the power pole about 300 yards from my house. Given that most of Duke Energy’s equipment and employees were dedicated to rebuilding after Helene, it took about 14 hours to restore power at my house This is how I discovered my generator wasn’t working.
With me watching, my “he can fix anything” brother-in-law took it apart, and what looked like Farm Best’s USDA Grade A Pasteurized whole milk poured out of the carburetor. Mr. “I always run the gas out of it” (that would be me) apparently didn’t last year. I am sure it was my wife’s fault; however, when the power and the power-reliant air conditioner are out of service, it is not wise to discuss who did what and when. Even I am not that much of a moron.
So, the good news is that between the discovery of the non-functional generator status and the coming of Milton is that I received a new Honda generator delivered to my house courtesy of Amazon and FedEx, bless them.
That kept us from having to throw out all the food that we bought to replace the thrown-out food following the power-pole incident.
We survived the hurricane season (thus far) with no damage to property or person…and we are grateful for our safe passage. When I reflect on the storm’s aftermath, I think of Cedar Key, Florida, and Chimney Rock, NC. Those places are just about gone. There are lots more places that suffered aplenty, but the pictures from those places are written into my memory. My heart and some relief dollars go out to those people who have suffered so much.
At my house, we spent a little over a week picking up and removing yard trash. While we did not suffer loss of property or harm to people, the aftermath brought to mind a line I recall from Tommy Lee Jones in No Country For Old Men: he said something like, “Well, if it ain’t a mess, it’ll shore do until the real mess gets here.”
Man, I was tired for weeks after the cleanup.
Christie and I both confirmed that neither of us is getting any younger each year, and somehow, the ground keeps getting further away when we bend over and lift stuff.
I know I am a different breed of cat, and my thoughts are sometimes a bit hard to relate to, but I find a certain amount of comfort in hurricanes.
Hear me out.
As you know, I am a person of faith, the Christian faith, to be specific. When nature flexes its strength and reminds us that it is far greater in power than we are, even with our amazing technological advancements throughout the years and centuries, I am humbled to remember my place in the order of things, and I am further comforted to know there is One far more powerful than the nature that roars.
While I am an old softie and like my creature comforts, those few days of power outages (okay with the generator running so I have the refrigerator going steadily, and a desk fan and CPAP machine to let me sleep in comfort) … those few days of power outage I enjoyed because I reverted to getting up with the break of day and going to bed with sundown. I am reminded, just a bit, of being in tune with the earth and all that’s in it.
I am also reminded that my very survival depends on so many other people and their skills and services that I benefit from each day and moment that I am alive.
Benefits that range from the provision of food, clothing, shelter and medical care, to entertainment, luxuries and amusement.
Life is pretty good and full of riches, there are joys and wonders everywhere. While it’s only necessary to pick up the paper to recall the horrors that are just outside the door, horrors both real and imagined, the good still triumphs for me. Being a farmer is lots of hard work.
This Thanksgiving, let us all be grateful for the Creator who gave us this world and our places in it. Every day I am finding a lot of laughter and love. Thanks for sharing the journey with me. I appreciate you; I really do.
November 2024
