Outside the window at Paris Bakery a rumpled homeless man is pushing a shopping cart. Two big mangy dogs are tied with ropes to the cart. The man moves slowly down the street, the dogs pulling in different directions.

I have lost the gist of the conversation with my friend. The sight was too sad for me to bring into this warm room. So I smile at my friend and try to catch up.

I'm up early to remove most of the stuff in the freezer. Two and a half days of no power. I am unwilling to risk eating contaminated foods. I feel foolish.

I saw that the ice cubes in the container had melted and then refroze in a solid mass.

The garbage men come early, by 6am I had the old food bagged and out. I was trying to avoid the marauding raccoons who want nothing more then spoiled meat.

My house is dry and warm. The rain is back. Tonight I go to the Cherry Center for zazen. All is well.

picture - Edward Hopper

I dreaded the afternoon job of moving the mattresses and recreating the house to it's original condition.

I strip the beds, start the wash and struggled with the double mattress, pushing it on it's side up the stairs inch by inch. Finally it clears the door and I can push it down the hall to the guest room. I lay down and rest before I move the other beds.

The last storm is gone. The windows are open. The outside air is cleaning the house of all the stale odors.

At the rookery the two herons stand on opposite sides of the old nest staring at each other. I love making up a story about their lives.

My neighbors and I are walking through the neighborhood checking on damage from the storm. None of us have electricity and it soon is clear why, Trees have knocked down power lines,

A pack of crows are squawking and dive bombing the old cypress tree. Sure enough it's the red tail hawk sitting quietly on a limb. The crows want him out of their territory and soon he is back in the air with a trail of agitated crows following him.

For two and a half days I was without electricity and heat feeling alone and isolated and cold. I hung out at the coffee houses, hot coffee, heat and light. Now I can live in my own house again. Hurray.

Parking at home with bags of food from the store, I could hear the screams of little children. My body tensed, what is happening. It was awhile before I saw that it was joy and excitement as they jumped on beds, chased each other and threw things. I took a deep breath and walked in.

We are preparing for the much talked about storm that will hit tonight.

It's true, the house eats up everything, tomahawks, children's socks, cars, jammies, books, keys, wallets, everything you are looking for has been eaten by the house, so there; that's why we can't find our stuff.

The young boys know this is true, it's just the adults who keep looking.

Three blue herons in the gully rookery this morning.

When the human noise level gets too high in my house I just go into my bedroom and close the door. Yesterday I was in my bedroom by 6pm.

picture - Paul Ranson

This morning by the wharf the small waves glitter in the warm sun light. No sweaters or jackets today.

Last night in the cold wind the little kids danced to the Taiko drums. The bigger kids stood around resisting the urge to
move their bodies to the beat. Sometimes a foot would betray the rhythm.

Even thought I slept well last night I want to take nap before we all gather again to celebrate New Years Day. The doors and windows are open. When the sun goes down we will have another fire in the fireplace and once again watch sponge bob square pants on the TV, the favorite of young kids. We move at the pace of the smallest walking child in the house.