The week before Christmas, we had a ‘freak’ windstorm. Hurricane force winds in the high mountain desert are not something that historically have been an issue. “I thought I wouldn't have to hang Hurricane shutters ever again if I left Florida”...I grumbled to myself as I screwed plywood over a windward garage window during a brief break in the wind.
And I say ‘freak’, but it happened twice last year.
The first time, over the summer, our neighbors on the other side of the road lost their main garage. We heard a huge “WHOOOSH” in the afternoon as a wind gust just picked the entire building up and spread it all over the 200yds between there and here. I’m still finding bits of that structure on our property to this day.
We pick up the pieces. The power comes back. Life carries on.
The second time, something like 20 semis were tipped over on the interstate within 2 miles of our exit. It was truly wild to see. A neighbor just down the road measured 97mph gusts, and had the entire cab of a tractor blown out. Enormous hay shelters in our valley just vanished.
On our property, a wind gust destroyed one of the 20 foot high garage doors on the largest barn. I’d never seen that before - a huge steel door crumpled up into a ball like a scrap of paper.
That building held a camper, a boat, tractors and mowers, multiple ATVs and snowmobiles. My Dad’s mechanic shop and
very rare vintage mustang. An attic filled with our keepsakes tucked up into the eaves for safety.
But once that door failed, the wind got in there, and forced the side walls out. The attic structure held most of one side up, but the wind snapped some of the 8” posts that held up the roof on the other side like toothpicks. By nightfall, the garage door remnants were hanging by a literal thread (one pulley string) right over the hood of the car. But the building stood.
And that night, we went to my niece's birthday party dinner, albeit a bit shellshocked. Life carried on.
The building has been shored up, but still sits ripped wide open. I have a hard time going back there and looking at it. But everything that was in that barn is now parked all over the property, and in two enormous containers in the driveway as we wait for insurance to start the rest of the rebuild. So there’s no avoiding it. No turning away. But it feels raw.
Eventually everything will go back to the barn. We’ll replace the stripped siding on the other buildings and the one window on the porch. I’ll build some prettier, permanent, hurricane shutters, and make sure the new garage door is a higher wind grade than the permit calls for.
We’ll continue to pick up the pieces and sweep up the mess. Life will carry on. It has to. This is life now.
Because as I absorb everything that continues to go on both nationwide and closer to home, I’m realizing that the life carries on part is the important bit. The neighbors still need help. The kids still want pizza for their birthday. The bills still need to be paid.
So we do it all.
And just like the barn, the country still stands. We still live here. And we’re the ones who’ve gotta continue to pick up the pieces and put it all back together. Even if the wind continues to blow. Even though it makes me mad as hell that we have to do so.
And at the same time, accepting that nothing will never be the same again.
The thought that keeps sticking with me, though, as I’m someone who moves very swiftly from shock to acceptance to making a plan to getting it done...is like…what if it turns out better on the other side of this? Stronger somehow - with hurricane grade improvements. More beautiful in the end.
Because problems are always opportunities. And again, the only way out is through. The only thing to be done is to clean it up. To carry life on.
So if you need me, I’ll be here, continuing to pick up the pieces, supporting better solutions than what was here before. And as ever, searching out those…
