Storm Center offered me hourly text messages on Irene’s path, but this is more than I want to know about Irene. She’s out there, and I’m here, in Brattleboro, buying shirts and pants for the book tour at Sam’s quite a wonderful place to buy clothes. We’re going to pick up some flashlight, buy some bread and fruit and head home to dance with Irene. Storm Center says prepare for Armageddon, an extraordinary event, the storm of the century. Thanks, folks. With Rose’s help, we’ll get all the animals in the barn, clear off things that might blow around, and fill all of the water tanks.

I decided this photo of Minnie preparing for the storm was appropriate. The barn cats just vanish in  a storm, tucked away in the hay bales, meditating and waiting for the mice to emerge. We might do the same. Last night, I willed Irene to move her track away from the farm, and I see this morning, that she did, edging a bit South. I don’t wish harm on anyone, but I expect she will avoid the farm and the animals there. The donkeys will spend a couple of days and nights with the chicken. Off for breakfast. More later. I am still ready to dance with Irene, suddenly an influence in my life and other lives.  Simon reminds me to keep perspective.