One way my northern friends and relations always question my sanity is by asking, “How can you stand living in Houston, don’t you miss the seasons?” Sure, fall-winter-spring all kind of mushes together down here, in a delightfully non-shoveling sort of way, but by golly, we DO have Hurricane Season. The 2010 season officially starts today with abnormally warm and oily ocean waters to provide plenty of fodder for local meteorologists. I confess to be a bit of a hurricane junkie. I’d be very content to never be in the path of one again, 2008’s IKE was enough for me, but they are just so interesting. In my next life I think I’ll be a meteorologist. Hurricane watching is also one of the impeti (impetuses?) for me to start blogging. In the past, when gulf storms have threatened the Houston area, I created an email list of the aforementioned northern friends and relations to let them know how we were doing, relating tales of our hurricane preparedness and survival, and relieving some of my own anxiety about the situation. The emails were generally well received and, in fact, several people suggested I should blog because I was more entertaining than the newspeople who were covering the story.
I feel it only fitting to report here, in the first hurricane post on 2010, the sad passing of the infamous pencil plant. In 2008, the pencil plant, husband’s botanical pride and joy, had grown too large to move into the house or garage. Being very top heavy in its pot, we knew it would not survive Ike on the patio. So we tied it to the treehouse. I-of-little-faith was sure it would never make it, but husband’s ingenuity was rewarded and it came thru the high winds unscathed. By last winter it was so big that we actually planted it in the ground and a cutting of it had also grown too large to move indoors. We lost both of them to hard freezes. We are currently babying three tiny cuttings that are still very transportable and will be protected at all costs this year.
So I wish you all happy hurricane watching and here’s hoping the big ones stay at sea.