Needs Stabilizing

If I were to rate our current lifestyle, as opposed to our previous lifestyle, the one we enjoyed when I turned sixtyfive and started this blog, (my husband and I are the same age, btw.), the phrase I would use is:

"Needs Stabilizing."

After a series of storms the previous winter, Lake Garrison breached, or rather, the Pacific Ocean breached the lake, and we, those of us living on the lake by the ocean were now facing the mighty Pacific. The dunes had been washed over and property owners whose houses were on lower grounds took the task of forming canals that opened up the lake so it could drain into the ocean, not the other way around. These home owners hired machinery and in the middle of night took it upon themselves to drain the lake. Yes, it drained, down to a few feet of water. We could walk around the perimeter and visit each other lakeside and know, at a glance where reeds, boulders and other landmarks were scattered about.

The project of stabilizing the lake took a few years to complete, involved many agencies, and it has worked well in maintaining the level of the lake, most winters, at a steady level. Even after this winter's series of major storms, and a few incidents of lake rising, for the most part, the engineering project worked.

On the next post I will continue to reveal how our lifestyle needs an engineering feat like the one put in place at Lake Garrison.

Waiting for the next storm.

My husband is a good sport, indulging me in so many ways, even posing for this picture the day before the first February storm hit town. No, you don't hear about these Northwestern storms in the news  because though they are predictably harsh and fierce, cutting trees down, toppling sheds not pinned down, and eliminating any need to rake the lawn and driveway, they arrive with assurance and declaration after traveling for miles in the Pacific. Since few of us live on this coast, no need to worry anybody else.

This last week we had two powerful storms hitting us at 75-100 miles per hour, each lasting a few days at a time, pelting us with ferocious rain and debris to keep the hardiest of folks indoor. After such storms, the road crews are busy clearing roadways and repairing roads. We have been running errands with the full knowledge that we'd be crossing swollen rivers and creeks dangerously close to spill out on the main road, forcing us all to make hasty retreats.

In the past, before we were seniors, and before regulations changed, our pharmacist would provide us with extra meds during winter months for just such disturbances. Now, it is not easy to get extra meds for possible bad weather days.

Yesterday, between storms, we rushed out for emergency runs to get meds and groceries and were fortunate enough to make there and back without any incidences. Today, after last night's new storm, we are not sure those rivers are minding their confines. One of these days, I need to acquaint my readers with the vagaries of keeping house on such a frontier.

One would expect all kinds of life and death emergencies in these settings.
Animals seem to know these things and huddle low and out of reach. I have never seen cows or lambs battered around during these storms.

We rarely lose electricity, until yesterday, just for a half hour or so in the middle of the night; it was on when we got up and wouldn't have noticed it except for the clocks not being aligned. The bigger problem is finding out that some animal looking for warmth or shelter during such storms has found warmth under the car hood.

And so, as we canvas the property after each storm, fixing this drain, clearing debris, we also check under the car hood, or brush, hoping to rescue those caught unaware.

Hubby repairing a drainage pipe to stop further water damage to the roof.

Rainy Day Blues

Thursday, March 6, 2014, early morning.

The storm last night is fading, after thunder and lightening scared the cat and sent her to hide in the recesses of a closet somewhere. Sheets of water smudged all windows on the south-side, on the east-side, the north. The trash bin waiting to be picked up managed to stay upright, surprising us all. We have a day of rain ahead of us, and twelve, nay, fifteen hours to entertain ourselves.

First, coffee and breakfast. Hubby volunteered to make caponata and eggs after the cat woke him, around five or so. He had planned to cook and had told me ahead of time. Only, he heard that I was sick of eggs and skipped the egg when he served me. No problem. Caponata is a rich stew of wonderful veggies, so rich that your tongue will keep on singing praises to the chef for hours.

The Weather Channel app on my Samsung Android which I keep right by my bed, in case there is a Tsunami and we have to hightail out of the house in the middle of the night, by way of the garage, and our well-stocked SUV always ready for any weather, then up to Coast Guard Hill a good seven minutes away by car, that app. announced its downloading somewhere in the middle of the night, waking the household even before the rain and the winds began pounding the windows and the rooftop.

Great! I thought. In an hour or two I can take a very long walk to the beach to check up on last night's damage. (passing the time means stretching all activities including the aforementioned walk to the beach which might take all morning.)

No need to rush anywhere on such a day. Our house is full of food, cooked and raw. We can survive for days with our canned, frozen and fresh food. But, if we lose electricity, something that happens rarely, we do have wood to provide heat in the fireplace, and cellular phones to stay in touch and call for emergency.

Without electricity, however, I couldn't be writing leisurely as I'm doing right now. Or reading at length in a dark place as my living room is now. Without electricity, no stove, no microwave or toaster oven. Without electricity, I couldn't recharge my many devices that run on batteries.

From the look of my driveway, the torrent of rain from last night might have dislodged some tree branches or entire trees. Debris might have blocked access to many roads, disrupting commerce, services, emergency vehicles. When we first moved here the thought of such disturbances would have caused me anxiety.

I have learned that storms pass; that services resume; that neighbors help neighbors in an emergency. That if a tsunami hit in the middle of the night, and we didn't hear or feel anything, such catastrophic event would be out of our control.

No use worrying about it.

After every storm...

This part of the lake could use a good storm to clear the weeds.

By the end of December, this area will all be cleared.

Hubby and I walked to the beach this morning, the waves beckoning.

This was the scene this morning, twelve hours after the first big Pacific storm hit land and winds clocked in at 60+ at Cape Blanco.

This morning, the sun was shining, and we combed the beaches as the surf  pounded in the distance, collected agates, small, irridescent stones barely visible among the tiny pebbles, as  dog owners chased their pooches on the sand.

My Hubby found a good place to sit.

Tonight, there is another high wind advisory.  From November to June, we get out and walk whenever we can, whenever the rain is mild and the winds are not ferocious.

By January, cabin fever sets in. Then, we drive down to California to visit our relatives and soak up more sunshine.