The power is out in Lochinver, so thanks to the wonders of off-grid living, ours might be the only household around here on the internet this morning (or maybe there's one other, hi Stevan and Helen!). Bill took the generator down last night once the wind began to look serious, and we've just put it back up again. In between, it blew a hoolie.
It was an eerie night. I didn't sleep much. The moon was just past full, giving the blanket of cloud a weird, white glow - floodlights on something unthinkable, in another part of the world.
The cabin vibrated and shuddered as gusts galloped in, battering us. I imagined the wind as a horde of wild, dancing creatures. The woods roared, birch trees bucking and cavorting like they wanted to uproot and follow the storm. The aspens on the crag strained and tossed their upper bodies around for release. And every now and then, one of the passing dancers would kick our cuboid little home as if to say, 'Oi, come out, you squares, we're having fun.'
They must have kicked a power line down somewhere in their frenzy. I hope everyone's coping without electricity. I can't help feeling a bit smug - elated with the energy of the wind and glad we're not dependent on the national grid to keep working. And the boat is safe.