Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Weathering Storms

Our island is in a flash flood watch. Thunder and lightning through the night. Nearly three inches of rain per hour in some areas.

With wild weather outside, we are giving thanks to be warm and dry within the safe shelter of home. Rain pours down upon our roof and the sky lights up in flashes. A booming distant crack follows not long after, rattling us.

The Bohemian looks at me. “And we are thinking to camp at the beach for a couple months this winter?”

I sigh. “Well…”

We live in the tropics. Even in this inclement weather the temperature gauge hovers around a comfortable 70 degrees. It can get soggy but not, technically, cold.

The theme of home is in the air for us, as we enter the final month of our sublet and do not yet have a new place lined up. Yesterday’s post recounted a moment of the Bohemian and I gazing across fields at our hoped-for dream home. That place is quite possible, but only a potential reality in the distant future. Between now and the new year, we need some home base, even if it is temporary.

Hence the talk of camping. We thought, why not? Folks save their pennies to travel to an island paradise and pitch a tent on a tropical beach. Why not set up camp at our neighborhood beach park and begin every morning to the sound of waves lapping at our tent door?

We’ve mentioned it casually to Jeb, who instantly goes to practicals. “What about the bus stop?”

“Yeah, it’s close by. I’d get you there like always, no problem.”

I’m thinking internet. Posting here to the Archives would mean crafting pieces on my laptop then piggy backing on the local bakery’s wi-fi in the mornings, in order to upload my daily pieces.

It would be an adventure. All of our things in storage. Homework by headlamp. Public bathrooms. Cold showers. And…those heavy winter rains.

Moodah the dog is curled up in the Bohemian’s lap as another dance of lightning and thunder shake the sky above our sturdy cedar home. I shut the laptop screen that shows no new rentals on our local classifieds’ website. I sit down by my husband and the dog.

“Yeah, winters can be wet and stormy.”

No matter how we look at it, there is no perfect resolution in this moment. No certain outcome.

What we do have are two empty tea cups and rain falling on the roof outside. We will soon get cozy in our bed and, eventually, this storm will pass. We will hope to wake in the morning (because we realize, even that is never guaranteed). We will continue taking steps to try to find our next place. Try to strike the balance between taking action and just letting go to trust. Try to follow our instincts as well as our minds.

In framing our current dilemma, we’ve asked each other this question: “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Truth is, we’d end up sleeping on a tropical beach, watching sunsets ocean side and living just a little closer to the elements. I think we could weather that storm.

It’d certainly give me something to write about…

2013-10-01_lightning ocean
photo courtesy of Andrew Malone
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

What Didn’t Happen

Leave it to the weather to humble plans.

Parades get poured upon. Rain checks get written.

And then there is the flip side. Through the science of weather forecasting, inclimate weather can be predicted. Preparations can be made, and in the case of our island’s recent Tropical Storm Flossie, hyper-diligence can be employed.

Let me preface by saying I have not lived through a hurricane and I am wholeheartedly in favor of responsible action being taken in advance of potentially hazardous weather. The Bohemian and I rounded up the yard’s tiki torches, filled our jugs of water and got the candles and flashlights out on the counter. We have food stores.

But I’ve got to smile when Facebook is all abuzz with links to the latest foreboding news stories, angling an oddly named storm at sea like it was the next blockbuster movie to hit the big screen. Lines form at the gas station and radio stations repeatedly announce the same, heeding, public advisories.

2013-07-30_flossie

Am I missing something? Didn’t the official advisory say this storm had a 5% chance of becoming a hurricane? And even as news stories went national, reaching the Mainland (and the “just checking in on you guys out there, we saw the news”-type phone calls came in) the center of the storm was breaking up and the projected wind speeds were decreasing.

Does everyone just like a good story? A little drama?

Is it possible that somewhere in our human psyche, we need to be reminded that there is something greater than ourselves? Even if it means the potential devastation of the little world that we’ve created.

The most impact of Flossie (which had been downgraded to a Tropical Depression before bedtime) was supposed to come to our island last night. The Bohemian and I went to bed with ease and woke in the wee hours to the sound of wind and rain. Nothing torrential.

This morning, it’s a little stormy with some wind, but there is sunlight through the clouds. The Central Pacific Hurricane Center has officially posted their last public advisory on the Flossie system. She is now being called a “Post-tropical Remnant Low.”

Maybe some people are coming down from the adrenalin rush of this latest tropical storm watch.

Me, I’m relieved that we’re getting rain (flash flood watch still in effect, so let’s hope the island soaks up moisture well).

And I’m watching an amazing sunrise. Sort of smiling at what didn’t happen.

2013-07-30_flossie sunrise

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 1 Comment

Soak It Up

In the tortoise shell-like dome, we lay low to the earth and sweat our prayers.

Steam rises from the rocks that hiss and sing. High pitched, sizzles respond to humble requests.

Outside this sweat lodge, trees eavesdrop in leaves that droop in dusty film.

Please may it rain.

May the earth be able to soak up the showers with full absorbency.

May the Bohemian’s parents have a smooth and easy passage in their journey from Czech to here.

Thank you.

Next day, Baggage Claim. The Bohemian stands with his mother and father, draping them in plumeria leis in the open-air terminal.

Clouds crack and a deluge fully falls.

Their eyes grow big, concerned.

The Bohemian assures them. “Don’t worry. It will do that for ten minutes and then just pass.”

Hawaiians say rains mean a blessing.

We are showered in answered prayers.

In the swirl of the pre-wedding current, I remind myself to soak it up.

Let each precious drop – these fleeting moments – permeate with full absorbency.

photo courtesy of Mark Sebastian