Tonight there is forecast a wind storm. It should sweep through the trees with gusts up to sixty miles an hour, and there is a danger of flood. A child I know, when she was four years old, used to be scared of the sound of wind, and no one could convince her otherwise. In retrospect , it was a reasonable fear, as the noise is spooky, loud, and the gusts are unpredictable. My cat Izzie runs for cover when the wind sweeps through our drafty apartment. The worst of wind is a tornado, or cyclone, and as a child living in Saint Louis, I feared it. We used to practice bomb drills at our desks, placing our heads down on our crossed arms. We would have done better under the desks. The possibility of seeing the ominous sign of a twister was enough to shock me.

It is the next day, which translates as today. The rain pours in gusts, then gets quiet. The early morning DJ has made it to our community radio station to broadcast live, so it means the roads are passable. I see a plastic pot has been flung inti the woods by the eind, and I will retrieve it later. The power is still on.