This is the story of the hurricane

So it's been a few weeks. I would like to assure you all that we're all okay down here. Hurricane Ike came through last Saturday with a vengeance, bent on being at least as destructive as Rita. I think, at least in places, it succeeded. Our house weathered the storm quite well. Despite being nearly 100 years old and on pier and beam, it didn't budge even against the worst that Ike had to offer. Only the clattering of an occasional window screen gave a hint that anything was amiss. Until one looked out the window, of course. By 9 am we had lost power. By 11 am, Ike claimed its first victim, our red bud tree. The cats, nervous because of the pressure changes and antsy because they wanted to be outside, were the only active beings on the property. Sierra, under the influence of benadryl and a homeopathic anti-anxiety, sat comfortably in the garage workshop. Mark and I slept through most of the storm. We ventured outside a couple of times to take pictures and video of the happenings, but none of them turned out well at all.

After the storm, we packed up our freezer and the dog and braved the roads to get to Dad's. He, of course, had a generator. We stayed the night there and the next day, helping clean up a vast amount of debris. We finally ventured back home Sunday night and stayed there with no power until last night. The lights finally came back on around 5:00 pm yesterday. So here we are, almost a week later, with no redbud tree and a yard full of leaves and oak limbs that we're saving for firewood.