Coming Through the Rye

Well, maybe not through the rye, but at least beside it. Although our weather has stayed so mild that our lawn grass (predominantly St. Augustine) is still pretty green (or at least would be if it weren’t covered with pine straw), I noticed this morning that the City has overseeded the bluff (and doubtless other City properties) with winter rye. This must have been done several days ago, as it is already quite thick and lush. Unlike St. Augustine, which just looks scraggly when allowed to grow too long, rye grass becomes so downright luxuriant that you are tempted to lie down and wallow in it!

One of the things that constantly surprised us when we visited England in March 2008 was how green everything was. On the Gulf Coast, where we live, any type of grass hardy enough to survive summer heat without wilting turns brown in winter, but the cool-climate grasses that prevail in England apparently stay green all year long. So while the trees were still bare (we’d left them in full bloom or beginning to leaf out in Fairhope), the ground was bright green, even in Scotland, as many of our photographs attest.

Well, that was spring, and now it is autumn, and everywhere there are signs of the approaching holidays. Last night Fairhope celebrated its annual “Lighting of the Trees.” The City had just finished removing dozens of aging Bradford pear trees along city streets (where they had become a hazard and a liability) and replacing them with Bosque Chinese elms, so it was a bit of a race for utility crews to get the lights up in time. But now downtown is once again a twinkling fairyland and will remain so until after Mardi Gras.

Even though we have a month to go before the solstice, this premature Festival of Lights does lift the spirits and put one in a holiday mood. To add to it, this Sunday afternoon the downtown merchants will hold their annual Christmas Open House, which is the official start of the Christmas shopping season (before Thanksgiving!), and on Friday evening, December 4, we’ll turn out for the Christmas parade.

But I can’t think about that now: my granddaughter is coming for Thanksgiving, and I have to think about what needs to be done to “childproof” the house!

Walking after Ida

To reassure my brother in Japan, I will say, “We are still here.” Apparently yesterday was a slow news day and Weather Channel addicts especially may have gotten the idea that “Hurricane” Ida was actually a major and dangerous storm. A client of my husband’s in Puerto Rico called to check on our welfare, and later my brother in Oregon also checked in. Last night the local Jim Cantore wannabes interrupted our regularly scheduled programming for hurricane coverage so often and at such length that we entirely lost the thread of the plot.

The Board of Education closed the schools for two days (no doubt deeply regretting that they’d let the kids take their “hurricane makeup days” as “Fall Break” a few weeks ago), the City closed offices and departments (including the library) and canceled garbage pickup (already scheduled to be skipped tomorrow, Veterans Day) and took down the hanging flower baskets (sensibly enough, and at least they didn’t bother to take up the bedded plants), the local emergency management agency opened a shelter.

I don’t know whether there was a run on grocery stores for batteries, bread, milk, and eggs or not, but when I went to the ABC Beverage store yesterday afternoon for a routine whiskey purchase, the clerks there confirmed they’d been doing a land-office business.

All this despite the fact that by late afternoon yesterday it appeared pretty clear that Ida was weakening and was not going to pose much of a threat to anyone except those in very low-lying areas (a voluntary evacuation was declared for waterfront property owners).

It was quite breezy yesterday morning (more so, I venture to say, than at any time after the storm actually made landfall), and it started sprinkling just as I was about to go out for a walk. It continued to rain and blow off and on all day and through the night, but the rain gauge this morning (after the storm had passed and the rain had stopped) showed just 3¼ inches. To put this in perspective, we had 2¼ inches during a 24-hour period twice in October.

When I got up this morning, I looked out the window, curious to see what the storm had produced in the way of “derbis” (a “family word” we picked up from a friend). The back yard was scattered with dead wood (thoroughly rotten and scabby) and a few of what my husband calls “giblets” (small live branches, with leaves, ripped off by the wind). So yes, there’ll be a little cleanup. But that’s often true after run-of-the-mill storms. This was definitely no biggie. If we’re lucky, though, perhaps it brought down the last of the pine straw and most of the rest of the abundant acorns.

My husband and I dithered about exercise—hit the street or go to “the gym“? I opted for the outdoors, while he took off for the indoor track. When I returned, he said, “You made the right choice.” (Sure enough, the Christian Life Center was still closed, and he ended up running outside after all.)

It was the right decision. The temperature was brisk (mid-60s), and a fresh breeze added wind chill, so I made record time, pushing hard to warm up. And my trip around the neighborhood confirmed that no one had suffered even moderate damage. Although garbage pickup had been canceled, a city garbage crew were roaming around looking for “derbis”—or perhaps just looking for any downed limbs that might be blocking streets. If so, they weren’t finding anything.

Bottom line: a non-event, and if we can just hang on for 20 more days, we can finish this hurricane season without a single hurricane. I don’t think anyone here will object to that!

Outside Again

Now that the weather here has finally turned mild (highs in the 70s, breezy), I’ve felt less inclined to go to “the gym” and more eager to get out in the fresh air. A nasty cold kept me in for a week or so, but I’ve since had several opportunities to reacquaint myself with the neighborhood. As usual, changes are more noticeable when some time has elapsed. The “little pink house” had been reduced to an empty lot the day after I reported it as a pile of rubble, and when I next saw it, on October 25, workmen were digging trenches for the footings of the new construction. The following day, a cement mixer was on site pouring concrete. The next time I got out (November 1), several courses of concrete block had been laid on top of the foundation, and the wall has continued to rise over the past week.

A few blocks away, I was astonished to see another vacant lot. The previous property owner had died some years ago, and the house had been empty ever since. The yard had been allowed to grow up into such a wilderness that it brought to mind visions of the prince hacking through briers to get to the Sleeping Beauty. Some months ago, the yard had been cleared, leaving only a few shrubs, and it was rumored that the property had been sold and the new owner intended to “remodel” or “renovate” the house. I was dubious. The property is a large corner lot overlooking the bay, and the house was small and run-down. The new owner had undoubtedly paid a pretty penny for the location alone. So I was not surprised that the house had been demolished, just startled to realize that it had happened while I wasn’t paying attention. Now the property is surrounded by erosion control fencing, but a yellow building permit sign is the only other sign of activity so far.

As an aside, one advantage of walking on a treadmill for several months is that I’ve gotten in the habit of walking faster, so walking outside should be better exercise for me than before. I’ve yet to match my time on the treadmill, at least in part because of traffic. Yesterday I stood in a crosswalk looking impatient while half a dozen cars passed; I felt justified in shaving that 20 seconds off my time. Today, on the other hand, a car actually stopped for me in the same crosswalk. Since there was a car speeding toward us in the opposite direction, I just shrugged helplessly. But the considerate motorist seemed bent on being courteous, and the other motorist, seeing that one car was already stopped for me, also stopped. Amazing! I was too intrigued by this drama to even notice how many seconds that diversion had cost me.