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My time line is all jumbled up from trauma. I remember it started to rain. We watched over one hundred Nighthawks attempt to migrate Saturday night. Nighthawks are a delicate part of our ecosystem. I rarely see more than a few dozen migrating yearly. The interesting thing is they did not fly into the storm but took a sharp right turn. I felt a flutter of hope.
Hurricane Irene's eye was threatening to pass through the heart of our little town. Yes it rained, a fine mist all night and by daybreak the rain came in waves from her outer bands. The song of rain went from music to menacing and yet we really had no clue of what was come.
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