That wacky Mother Nature

Here in Western Washington (state, that is) we are recovering from a massive wind-and-rain storm, which toppled trees, caused mudslides, closed and damaged bridges, and left a couple hundred thousand people without power. This morning's newspaper, with its dead-on ability to put things in perspective, has whole sections devoted to WHAT TO DO IF YOUR POWER IS STILL OUT WHEN THE SUPERBOWL STARTS. Because the Seattle Seahawks are in the Superbowl, which is this afternoon. Something I absolutely could not make myself care less about even if I tried, but it appears I'm in the minority on that one.

The storm didn't seem all that dramatic to me, although the wind was damn cool yesterday. Just the force of it, seeing the trees sway so violently, hearing the sounds of it. The dogs would go outside and sit with their noses straight up, absorbing the swirling maelstrom of smells, the canine equivalent of dropping acid no doubt.

Meanwhile we also had an earthquake on Thursday - small, but some eople felt it. I was bummed, because I didn't notice it. I like to feel the earthquakes. Don't get me wrong, in no way am I trying to encourage them, but if they happen I like to know about it. There have been four sizeable earthquakes since I moved here 14 years ago. One of them we missed out on because we were driving in a car, and didn't feel the earthquake above the bumping of the car. For the second one, we were in our house, and at first we heard a noise like a really really large truck driving by, and then the house started to shake and sway. For the third, I was at the office, talking to my real estate agent. "Hey," she said suddenly, "We're having an earthquake." I felt nothing, but sure enough - tick, tick, tick - the earthquake vibrated its way to me, slightly further from the epicenter than my realtor. I could hear the air conditioning unit dancing on the roof.

The last one, of course, was the big quake in 2001. Roads were shut for months, building facades collapsed, and yet amazingly, no one was killed. I was at a meeting in the community center of a park, and we all just ran out the door into a big open field, probably the safest place you could be. The earth didn't just shake, it undulated, like being on a boat in rolling waters. A sort of cognitive dissonance sets in, because the sensation is familiar and yet you're not supposed to have it while standing on the ground, the most basic surface there is. It's like asking what exists beyond the universe - your brain can't conceptualize something beyond the most basic foundation of your experience. There's nothing more grounded than the ground, right?

Anyway - the weather people say the sun is supposed to stick around now, GLORY Hallelujah. The entrenched cloud of rain that has been lingering here since mid-December is finally moving on, a guest that has long overstayed its welcome but is deaf to polite hints. Only some 80-MPH winds and a magnitude 3.6 earthquake managed to deliver the message.