I was working on my computer in the office when the curtain on a west facing window rustled in an unusual way. I noticed the movement but continued to work. Then it happened again, with gusto. The curtain stretched into the room and papers flew off my desk. When I went to the window to see what was going on — it was unusally dark and the trees were swirling in the wind. The clouds boiled out of the west toward the northeast following a track over Ebenecook Harbor, heading for Boothbay across the north end of Southport. It looked serious.
The morning news had mentioned rain, although early in the day, it was nice. But things can change and I had an elopement to photograph at The Newagen Inn. I texted Cherie there to suggest that umbrellas might be in order. Little did I know.
About an hour before the wedding time, the skies opened up and it rained in all directions. I texted Cherie hoping our best chance would be for a fast mover. Little did I know times two! We were spared on Southport, mostly. The lights flickered on our side of the island but the storm had really clobbered Boothbay. Traffic was stopped, power lost, trees down everywhere.
At Newagen, when I arrived, there was light drizzle and the sky was lightening up with breaks of sun. There was no indication of what was going on a mile away as the crow would have flown, on a good day. It was taking people an hour to get from the Harbor to Back Narrows and Back River, if they could get there at all — a miracle that no one was hurt, or worse.
That very same evening, as I was returning from the Harbor, at around 7:30, the fogs rolled in along the road home. I crested “Winslow Hill” and headed down by Karyl Bannister's place across from Love's Cove. The little island at the mouth of the cove floated within the sunset afterglow, ghostly through the mist. It was the calm after the storm with no trace of the nearby turmoil.