We were thoroughly prepared. We stocked up on food, bottled water, batteries, candles, lanterns and lots of other stuff. We brought everything in from the yard so that none of our neighbors would get hit by deadly flying objects. We stayed indoors with the dogs pretty much all day.
But in the end, nothing happened. Most predictions about Irene’s path indicated it would come up along the Connecticut River, including directly over Lancaster, NH, only 10 minutes down Route 3 from us. That’s why we were sure there would be serious consequences for the northeastern Vermont river towns.
But—no. We had a day of moderate to heavy rain (not uncommon in these parts). There was a bit of wind (nothing extraordinary, by any means). The power didn’t go out once, not even for a single second, anywhere in our town. What limited cell phone service we have in the ordinary course of affairs remained intact. Our basement is completely dry. The Connecticut River, which I can see right out my living room window, has risen somewhat, but nothing dramatic—certainly nothing compared to the scary flooding we experienced this spring. Our internet connection was down most of yesterday, but that usually happens when there is any cloud cover or rain of any kind.
So the biggest impact here was of our own making. Anticipating the worst, we stayed inside. I played with the dogs, read books, and watched an entire season of “House” on DVD, starting at noon.
At around 7pm, the rain had mostly stopped, and restlessness had set in, so I went for a walk across the bridge to Northumberland, NH. A guy over there came out of his house and told me that the real devastation was coming—we were in the eye of the storm, he said, and that’s why it was so quiet. He predicted we’d get slammed before midnight.
Didn’t turn out that way. This morning, I went walking around our little village looking for damage. Here in this photo is literally the worst thing I could find.