Four months

Four months ago, the worst of Irene had struck our beloved state of Vermont. These scenes had already taken place: Rte 4 had already washed out in Mendon, Rutland was flooded and there was so much we did not know.

Irene barrelled through Vermont a week after I resigned because I had finally extracted from the wardens that they would not call me as rector.

As Vermont Public Radio has had an update today on where things are for people affected by Irene, I realise that in my own way, I have been carrying all this stuff on my heart.

No wonder I am sad every time I drive into Plymouth Union and see the wreckage caused by Irene. I think of Sue, whose house was destroyed by the brook that ran by it [in picture; she put up the 'house for sale' sign as a joke]. I think of the elderly couple in the house two over whose house was condemned. And I think of the people down the road whose house still stands but the first floor needs total gutting.

My situation is so minor in the great scheme of things. But it is inextricably woven into the story of Irene. Thus, the retrospectives throw me back to those last days of August which were so crazy.