The Fires Begin

It is difficult to believe that it now has been several days since the hurricane. Cleanup trudges on as ever. I am so worn out from working today that I barely feel like I have to energy to sit here at my desk. This entry will be short since I have to drive to Rick’s in order to pick up Dad after he drops off the back hoe, but I hope I will find the time to add some more tonight. It was exceedingly hot today, and as the burn pile was beginning to get too high on account on the massive amounts of debris I had been stacking on it, I decided to go ahead and light it after driving to Texaco to buy some diesel. After about thirty minutes of working, my face literally felt as though it were on fire, and, wearied by the heavy roots I had been pulling out, I finally had to call it quits. Mom told me to get into the pool, but I declined, perhaps foolishly, and collapsed in my green chair and read a few chapters of A Clash of Kings. The side yard looks terrible after all the work Dad has done in it with the back hoe, and I fear that it will be a week or two before it regains some semblance of its former appearance. I think I have unintentionally badly burned my face, and I shudder at the thought that it appears that I have several weeks (months?) of burning work ahead of me.

We have often found ourselves wondering why the storm hit us so much more badly than it hit many of our neighbors, and we sometimes wonder whether a small twister touched down on us. The O’Reillys, for instance, appear to have sustained very little damage on their property. Last night in town, during a small conversation Mom managed to have with her, another neighbor reported that the only real damage she had on her property was a couple of broken trees.


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