Danny boy

Post tropical storm Danny was said to be “disorganized” as it blew into Nova Scotia yesterday.  More troublesome, he turned out to be  in this neighbourhood than was storm-behaving Bill.  We seemed to have lost power shortly after midnight and I kept being wakened by blasting wind that smashed rain into the window and its screens. Dawn was a nonevent, a paling of the grey.  I went out to see the extent of the outage (still out at 6:30 am) and found streets strewn with wood and bits of aluminum from awnings. It being Sunday morning, the fact that all the traffic lights were blank seemed of little issue.

For once, being on the hospital grid was no charm: the VG was running on a generator and that didn’t cover the gate into and out of its parking lot.  It being the shift change time of day, cars were being shunted and stopped at odd angles, creating a ghost of a traffic jam on an otherwise deserted street, right where the South/South Park pitworks has its northern boundary.

By seven, artificial light was restored, but the natural light is still a pool of slate filtered by the dark greens and soaked dark brown of the trees.  The fountain in Victoria Park, which always seems to be flowing only when least useful, is shooting its spray sideways, but there are no dogs loose to be shunted away.

The skinny Sunday paper has only US news on its front page:  Senator Kennedy above the fold, the Antioch kidnapping case below. Somehow, these add to the displacing sense of all the wind and grey. It should be a good day for a long walk.  Not a dry walk but a long one. A walk that doesn’t have any particular sense of time because the sky isn’t giving any clues.  And one where the sense of place, too, is very nearly ambiguous. Like hearing “Danny Boy” in a bar in Queens.

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One Response to “Danny boy”

  1. Al Says:

    Lovely description. Especially liked “dawn was a nonevent.”

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