Growing up in coastal Connecticut, I’ve witnessed the power of a “Nor’easter.”
Counterclockwise air currents being pushed from the northeast, draw moisture from the south, creating a storm as dangerous as a hurricane.
When a Nor’easter dumps snow, the impact is devastating. This particular Nor’easter has me glued to the window. Even the gossip which passes for news has made the weather the #1 story.
Part of what makes this storm so compelling is that it is stalled over land, flooding coastal areas. Add high tides and you’ve got scenes of people being evacuated from flooded homes on suburban streets.
I’m grateful for warm shelter far enough from water to be vulnerable to floods. Still, I miss my hikes. Even the birds and squirrels only come out long enough to grab a walnut half or sunflower seeds.
With each passing day, I’m less interested in being tethered to the computer. I’m compelled to watch the wind-driven sheets of water slam into trees and fences. I think about the feel of the Pacific under me as I learned to surf. Surfing is scarier than skiing.
The raging waters washing away parked SUVs frighten me more than the image of the same vehicle buried in snow.
This particular storm has already dumped a record-setting 7.5 inches. It’s raining where I am, but snowing just a few miles north and west of here.
A squirrel, soaked fur plastered to her skin, grabs a walnut. Normally she sits on the window ledge nibbling. Today she disappears under the shelter of the rhododendron. A blue-jay, crest feathers soaked and plastered to his head, fills his crop and takes off. That’s an indicator of just how wet it is outside and how cold and hungry these wild creatures must be.
The radar image of blue, green, yellow and orange bands moving counter-clockwise along the east coast from Virginia to Maine hasn’t moved in hours.
Flooding gets worse. Water can rise in a matter of minutes. It’s not like a bathtub filling. It’s faster than that.
Nor’easter says all this in one word.