First Storm

Sunday night, we experienced our first storm out here on the ocean.  It had been warm all day, almost ominously warm, and after dark we could hear thunder approaching from the southwest, bright flashes out over the ocean.  We went to bed but heard it all night, waxing and waning in strength, the rain pouring horizontally against the big bedroom windows and the sliding glass doors as if blasted from the nozzle of a fire hose.  I checked our Christmas decorations on the balcony the first thing in the morning; remarkably, they were still intact, and it looked like there was a break in the rain.  I was able to go out on the dune-top deck during this interim between waves of storm, but in a half hour's time it began once more in earnest.  I could hear the ocean crashing wildly even with the door closed.

In our sheltered valley in Highlands, we seldom feel the full force of a storm.  Our trees around the house will sway dizzily, and in the morning we will find branches littering the yard and driveway.  But out here on this narrow barrier island there is no protection at all, no matter what direction the wind and rain are coming from.  If I had not moved the balcony chairs and table inside they would have been long gone.

During a lull in the rain, I actually considered running as I had intended to.  But the weather app on my phone was lighting up with warnings:

I have run in pretty awful conditions before, but not when words like "severe" and "lightning" are in the forecast.  The last squall finally passed over us around noon, and then the wind began to rise in intensity.

This morning, the wind was even stronger and the temperature had dropped from 70 degrees to 45, with a stiff, unrelenting west wind blowing as it often does out here.  The wind chill was 38.  I checked the conditions for Highlands and saw that it was 19 there, but with the wind chill it felt like 10 degrees.  I doubt there were any runners out on this first day of December.  That is why we enjoy coming here during these months, and why we are so thankful for the generosity of Martha's aunt Lizette.  I was able to complete a comfortable three-mile run, and Martha walked three miles, in conditions that were, in Martha's words, "bracing."  Yes, bracing, that's the word for it!  

We returned to the condo with hair flying, cheeks flushed, and eyes bright, feeling more alive than when we had started out.