9.03.2010

Earl



It is hard to believe that just a couple of days ago I was in floating meditation on these very same waters. Yesterday and this morning I put away bird feeders, chimes, and chairs--anything that could become an unguided missile pointed at a window. We're hours from Earl's arrival in coastal Rhode Island, but the sea is boiling. I joined many of my neighbors down at Warren's Point, where we stood at the top of the hill and watched in awe as the waves swallowed outcroppings that are usually high and dry. You can just see the handrails on the stairs carved out of the cliff to the high dive; Earl is jumping the bluffs. The waves are magnificent--and terrifying. I hope everyone pulls through the pounding safely.

21 comments:

Karena said...

Dominique stay safe! I love the image however as mesmerizing as it is, it can be quite fearful to know what is coming!

Karena
Art by Karena

Splendid Sass said...

Stay safe. Weren't you supposed to evacuate? Hope everything is well for you. After being in a couple myself, I have a greater respect for Mother Nature.
Teresa

Splendid Sass said...

Oops! I meant to tell you what a beautiful photograph that was, even if it was the storm.
Teresa

Michele said...

That is beautiful. I love the power of a storm as much as I fear it.

Cindy said...

Wow! What an awesome (and frightening) picture! Hope you weather this storm safely! We have a place on the Outer Banks in NC. Hoping it's still standing after Earl!

Ashling said...

What a magnificent, awe-some sight...

Pamela Terry and Edward said...

I'll never forget being caught in a Nor'easter on Martha's Vineyard one September. Nothing to equal a hurricane of course, but quite thrillingly terrifying all the same. Keep your head down!!

Roby said...

Beautiful photo of the awesome and terrifying power of the sea. I wish you safely through the storm.
Thank you Dominique, for sharing your slow life with us!

c said...

After doing exactly what you did (taking down windchimes, all patio furniture safely tucked in and bundled, flower pots, feeders, fire pit, etc, etc), hoping for the best but preparing for the worst ... not much after all.

Huge sigh of relief, of course, that our little corner of Long Island was spared this time.

As for the photograph in your entry, gives me chills. And makes me smile. THANKS!

Awe inspiring. But no fear, just such respect ...

MIMILEE said...

Stay safe, Dominique! Hopefully, EARL will behave himself and not cause much havoc....hope not!

I loved your book!! I could relate to much of it..thanks for sharing your soul and your deepest thoughts....it inspired me.

All the Best,
Lee

Reggie Darling said...

There is nothing more impressive (or awesome to use a much-overused word) than a roiling sea and pounding surf. Magnificent, terrifying, and powerful beyond belief. Here in the Hudson Valley this early morning the skies are as clear as a bell, and yesterday's muggy, desultory heat is gone, swept away by the aftermath of Earl's passage. I trust that you have been spared. Reggie

SPLENDEROSA said...

Awesome photo, Dominique. I, too, am captivated with the sea, but when it turns stormy I feels so powerful, so angry that I must turn away. Having lived in Houston most of my life we've seen so much of this, the last one being Hurricane Ike which completely wiped our Galveston island. I think everyone has been very very lucky with Earl's curving trail.
xx's

Vava (aka Virginia) said...

I empathize. We were battered badly by Ike - he was not a gentleman but I do hope Earl is. Stay safe.

mary said...

Beautiful photo--at first I thought that it was a 19th c. painting. Glad that Earl passed you by.

david terry said...

"Mary" is quite right.....

Just before reading her comment, I'd thought "Oh...put this through a single paintbrush pass on Photoshop, and you could convince folks it's an early Winslow Homer".

thanks as ever,

David Terry

La Petite Gallery said...

Fantastic photo's. I hate Hurricanes. Lost everything in Andrew. I am living in Maine and when I heard EARL was comming, I thought Dear God no please. It didn't even make a breeze.

yvonne

SierraDelta said...

Massive subject change ahead! I'm new to your blog, Dominique, and in reading older posts, I came across your April entry about granola and compost. As Vicki noted, there is no longer a link to the recipe. S'il vous plait (avec sucre), could you redirect us? Merci.

Väva! Veve! said...

Living in Minnesota, we do not have the hurricanes of the coast. We do however have tornadoes, which are just as fearsome, with the ability to put a piece of straw through a tree trunk. We have been messing with Mother Nature and she is letting us know that she doesn't appreciate it! Compared to Her, man is merely a spec of sand. We have to step lightly and have respect!
Be safe!

Vicki Dreste said...

Nature at its mightiest.
Glad everyone is safe.

Dominique said...

SierraDelta: Here is what happened to the recipe, and perhaps you have a suggestion for what to do. The woman who gave it to me makes some of her income from selling her granola (which I didn't know at the time I posted.) After I put the recipe up on line, she lost some of her customers--and this was a real upset to her. So I took down the recipe, as I hadn't meant to harm her....

Perhaps, if you send me an email, I can send you my copy, as I don't think she is shipping out of state!

SierraDelta said...

I think that some recipes just don't want to be shared, Dominique. Sometimes that's apparent as early as the reading-the-recipe stage, but sometimes it doesn't manifest itself until the version you serve at your own table is only a pallid imitation of the one you swooned over at your sister's.

My mother's eyes soften and her voice becomes dreamy as she reminisces about a "burned sugar" cake that her mother made in the '30s and '40's. In the best of times, it's a finicky recipe that doesn't like to be made on humid days. My mother has seldom attempted it since her beloved mother died in 1961. She's never satisfied with the end product and swears it will never taste as meltingly delicious as it did when she and Grandma worked side by side in the little kitchen of her childhood.

When I was growing up, I wanted nothing more than my Granny Bea's toast for breakfast. It was Pepperidge Farm white bread, popped in a simple toaster, and slathered with unsalted supermarket butter. I've tried for probably 50 years to reproduce it -- in a toaster that levitates whatever is put in it; under the broiler of my oven; on a toast fork over a cheerful fire in my fireplace; with artisanal bread; with homemade bread; with premium butter; and with butter imported from France, Denmark, and Ireland. But it never tastes the same as Granny Bea's.

Clearly, particular foods and particular recipes have a secret ingredient, discernible only to a chosen few. I think they can't be reproduced unless there is, somewhere in their preparation, love. They exist in the fragile intersection of art and science. When conditions are right, they produce magic. If not, they produce food -- perfectly acceptable food, to be sure -- but not food that lives on in memory. They nourish the body but not the soul.

If I had to bet, I would expect your friend's lost granola customers to come back to her. Their versions "Just don't taste the same," they'll tell her sheepishly.

And so I thank you for offering to send me your copy, but I find I must decline your generous offer. Recipes have a power of their own, and they go where they choose. I wouldn't dream of interfering with that...