The Journey and the Destination

For most of the drive from the Lodge to the cottage, there's no sign of an EF2 tornado. (And at last count, it was nine stricken towns, and one more pending.) Not a limb on the road, not a leaf out of place. But the whole way up, I knew that a relatively short distance from the roadway, it was an altogether different scene.

There was heavy weekend traffic. And a most unusual number of utility company vehicles, Servpro vans (the water damage people), and tree removal/crane-type trucks.

At only one spot did I find evidence of the storm. Seeing it, I was even more thankful I stayed at the Lodge on Thursday instead of driving to the cottage:





A few days ago, there was no open sky visible in this spot:



I cried when I saw the altered landscape. I was already suffering from whatever equivalent of "survivor's guilt" corresponds to this situation, even more so when I saw the cottage intact and all our beloved trees in their usual places.

The dogs and I had our walk a little while after arriving--first we listened to a neighbour's Storm Story and his secondhand stories from other locals. The Chap drove up separately and met us on the road as we were making for home. Soon afterwards we all congregated on the dock for an afternoon swim.

Ruth and Jewel spot the invading army of ducks.



Ruth likes the way Jewel tastes when wet.



A head shot.