Last night about this time, Mr. Betty & I took a walk. It was dark. Very dark. We'd had no power most of the day but kept thinking it would be restored any minute. Nope. So after grilling anything & everything worth grilling in the fridge before it spoiled (let's hear it for gas!), off we went with quickly-dying flashlight in hand, and no spare batteries the correct size to be found, toward town. The only lights in sight, given there were no lights in windows, were, again, the gas-powered ones, i.e., the streetlights along the cobblestones and down Pelham. I never tire of the factoid that Pelham was the first gas-lit street in America, assuming the sign on One Pelham East is correct. Actually, there were a few more lights-of-sorts there, at "the Pelham", which was open (!), and busy (!). On top of the dim glow of candles in the windows, the red tips of patrons' cigarettes outside on the sidewalk were far more apparent and maybe a little prettier than usual. Then there were the stars, which seemed VERY bright last night as they shone through white clouds racing past on the last of Irene's gusts ...
That was about it.
But that was more than enough after a day or two of wind & waves & water & worries & waiting & wonder at the power (and powerlessness) of it all ...
