It's been a few weeks since Irene blew through. I was out of town that weekend, but I hear that we, mostly, had a blustery day. Our neighbors to the east and the north were not so lucky, and they will likely date from Irene. NYC took a bye when the degraded eye arrived a very few hours after high tide. Word is that had the water been one inch higher, Manhattan would have been a whole lot wetter.
Many will tell you that the day after a hurricane often presents some of the most beautiful skies of the season. That is generally true. Bluer. Cooler. Dryer. There's also the relative change and that collective sigh of relief.
Irene's passing brought us some rain and some cooler weather. In the weeks following, the landscape greened and bloomed.
The mushrooms were not far behind. These two are modest examples of the volley ball-sized mushroom I saw at the dollar flick. Sadly, it was night, and the light was not sufficient for my cell phone camera. I hope you can forgive me.
Farther down the street, we have a couple of oddities. We never know exactly what is beneath our feet, and I like to think of these two as the fingers of some dead man rising to claim his vengeance for an untimely death. We won't tell him that his assailant is also long dead.
They also come as singles.
Many of us come as singles.