Sandy just ripped down one of our huge old locust trees, missing the house—and the second-story room where Kevin was working in front of the window—by inches. I heard a crack like thunder and what sounded like someone falling down the stairs. When I stood to run up there, hollering to see if Kevin was OK, I saw the treetop in the first floor windows. All day I'd been reassuring friends and family that we'd probably be fine—though we're only seven miles from the coast and surrounded by a forest with lots of standing deadwood—but clearly I spoke too soon.
The trunk took down the power line and smashed the meter, so National Grid will have to turn off our brand new service before they head over here—ASAP they say—to clip the line. Lucky for us, our former landlady in Ipswich, who is now our friend, said we could stay in our old apartment (aka the rabbit hutch) if we lose power tonight. The wind and trees surrounding our property have been doing a rough tango all afternoon, and we'd been looking forward to more spectacular drama, but I think we've had enough for the day.