How many children, over the years, have tried valiantly to stay up on Christmas Eve, hoping for a glimpse of Santa Claus, only to tucker out and sleep right through his visit? I wanted so much to be awake through the storm last night, but somewhere after midnight, the rain and soothing voices on the Weather Channel blurred into the background, and in a fog I followed the red-headed dog upstairs, after he convinced me it was past our bedtime. I woke at about a quarter to seven, to the sound of the crape myrtle closest to the house brushing against the siding, next to my pillow. The center of rotation, or what was left of it, was very close to my house. The wind wasn't bad, and the rain was petering out quickly. It appears my Park has weathered the storm, and other than being very soggy, is no worse for wear. At the least I expected a branch or two to fall from the sycamore that sheds them frequently, but there were barely even leaves knocked free. I now have confirmation that the water fountain, that we kept layering with spray sealant, is finally water tight. I suppose I can finally paint and reassemble it. And I had put two of the bird feeders full of sunflower seeds on the ground, so they didn't blow away. Judging from what I found early this morning, a squirrel must have exploded.
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