The day before Sandy The wind is powerful today, even here. Sudden southeasterlies are brutal and mean, knifing through whatever pitiful layers of outerwear I have: Go in – NOW. Find warmth. Survive. My God. If it’s like this here, it must be utter chaos over the northeastern United States. For reference, and thanks to The Ottawa Citizen and Google maps. more maps here:http://blogs.ottawacitizen.com/2012/10/29/interactive-graphics-hurricane-sandy-storm-track-maps-2/ The sky’s heavy with blue-gray clouds pushed relentlessly backwards over bare whipping branches, roiling pine and cedar. There is no place, no thing that is still outside. The chestnut tree bends and flaps a final brilliant yellow, asters glow their brave singing violet to the bruised sky. I feel a deep, rumbling snarl rise in my gullet in answer to the harshness of this, as if I’m defending my home and young against a dangerous territorial threat. So I bundle up my snarling gullet and stand defiant on the edge of the escarpment, belly, chest and face to southeast. From here I can see the normally peaceful lee side of Owen Sound whipped from an indigo centre to a pounding froth – as though it’s suddenly remembered how to kill. It’s good – to be reminded how small we are, on this planet.