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Wiggy AllieApril 17, 2007 We're nearing the end of the second day of a three-day blow. Wild, wild weather! Night before last the electricity went out at least twice. I woke to the beeping of Morgana V's UPS (that's Uninterruptible Power Supply, not United Parcel Service -- we're good buddies with both of 'em). My bedside clock was blank. Through the skylights lightning was flashing (I love my skylights), though I didn't hear thunder. I got up, lit one of the candles on my desk, and unplugged everything computer-related. My neighbors are away for school vacation; I'm looking after their fish. Their tank is downstairs in the studio. I know nothing about fish, but their tank is plugged into the wall -- the filtration system? -- so they must need electricity. This sure wasn't the first time the lights had gone out in West Tisbury, so I figured they'd be OK. I went back to sleep. When I woke up again, the lights were back on and the fish were OK. By afternoon the sky had brightened and the rain had let up. After I'd done barn chores, around 5 p.m., Allie and I went out for a damage-inspection ride. Allie was wired. Allie's going to be 11 tomorrow. We've been together since she was 3 1/2, and from the beginning she's been a sensible girl, but as far as Allie's concerned "sensible" and "staid" are not the same thing. Approaching a familiar fork in the trail, Allie spied a new brightness off in the woods, where a fallen limb had split from its trunk. Snort, snort, dance, spook! Even though we weren't going down that trail. The trick is to direct her attention in another direction without getting into a fight; which is to say that the trick is not to get too exasperated. The trail we did go down had plenty of debris on it, and not a few sizable limbs. Snort, dance, snort! With a little coaxing she'd step over or go around. We came out on the Stoney Hill Road and went down it a-ways before going back into the woods. More trees down. We trotted wherever the trail was clear and unrocky enough, and after a bit Allie settled down, though she was, as usual, hyperalert to her surroundings. After closing at the barn, I headed home by way of Oak Bluffs (I was out of beer) and the Beach Road to Vineyard Haven. The sky was bright, the harbor barely rippling. A lull in the blow, it seemed: later the stars were out but by morning the sky was gray and the wind so persistent I couldn't tell if it was raining or not. Most of the day was like that. The rain was like heavy sea spray. Mostly I worked. I didn't ride.
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