We continue on our weather roller-coaster, with today a dry, semi-sunny but quite cool day. Conditions that inspired us to get out into the ravine. Sunday's all-day rain made that impossible, and Saturday afternoon's episode of suspense brought to us courtesy of a violent thunderstorm left us wondering what kind of damage we could expect to see in the forest. There's ample damage to the power grid here in Ottawa and vicinity. People only streets away from ours won't have their power restored until tomorrow.

 

Yesterday, Irving went out for bags of ice to give to our daughter, driving over from White Lake to pick them up because in her area there is such a demand there's none to be had. He returned with a dozen bags as she requested, but was really knocked for a loop by the panic he witnessed on the road. Wherever power is out gas stations can't pump gas, and drivers have converged in unbelievable numbers around stations whose power has been restored.

 

Shopping centres are packed with people desperate to get some food shopping done because stores where they live are closed as a result of no electricity. The municipal authority was heard on this morning's news to declare that the damage occasioned by this violent thunderstorm is worse than what occurred during the Ice Storm of 1998. Worse than when a tornado tore through the west end of the city. 

 

We met a friend, when we were going through the ravine, a young man who is a firefighter and he told us they were getting panic calls from people insisting the fire department come out and remove dead trees from their lawns, or trees that had fallen over their fences, on their cars, garages. He had his power back where he lives, not far from us, but others living a few communities away told us their power will only be restored after another day or so, and they were all out looking to acquire ice to tide them over. No one wants to lose a freezer-full of frozen food.

 

 

We expected to see damage in the ravine from the storm; we once had a mini-tornado pass through and it took down three large pines directly in its path. But what we saw this morning was not confined to a small area, but affected the entire forest. Mostly, it was large mature pines and poplars that cracked off, felling the trunks and the otherwise-healthy trees, leaving a raw snag. One tree we'll really miss was huge when we first saw it thirty years ago, a two-masted old spruce. It lost one of its masts fifteen years ago, and on Saturday the entire tree came down.

 

 

Often, when Jackie and Jillie see something different on a trail, they immediately become suspicious and begin barking. This morning, with trees felled across trails and debris of branches piled  high they accommodated themselves to the presence of this unusual spectacle by moving under, over, around or through the devastation and we trailed behind them.

 

The forest was beyond sodden, utterly drenched from days of heavy unending rain falling on an already overwhelmed forest, so that pools of standing water have once again proliferated. The forest has become a cemetery of trees, small and large. Trees that have grown for so long taking their pride of place in the forest, distinguishing themselves as you recognize them from long familiarity, suddenly gone.

 

There was an eerie stillness to the atmosphere. No wind, just a damp, chilly day and the spectacle of a forest that was hammered by overwhelming wind and rain. During the storm itself had anyone been in the forest it would have been a maelstrom of piercing light punctuating the darkness of the storm, elaborated by an ear-splitting symphony of threatening rumbles and booms along with a chorus of windswept trees helplessly swaying beyond their capacity to endure.

 

There was a bright note awaiting us once we exited the ravine, walking down the street to our house, where our garden is taking on an appearance approaching its summer radiance, with bright perky little heads of flowers low enough to the ground to have survived the windy onslaught of torrential rain. We took a few minutes to leisurely stroll about, looking at the flowerheads, admiring nature's handiwork despite the demonstration behind us of her destructive power.