We lost power just after I published the last post. Here you can see why we are not expecting restoration any time soon. This is one street downhill from us, houses that back up against the Little Wekiva River, which in this storm shattered by 12 inches its previous crest record of 30'.
You can see how these people will not be expecting mail delivery today. (In theory the mail is being delivered to our zip code, but I'm not holding my breath for it.) You can see that the electrical box is not in any shape for carrying current. And if you look on both sides of the house, you can see where the Little Wekiva River is pouring into the street, aptly named Little Wekiva Road. In a previous update I was hard on the engineers who designed the expensive improvements that were supposed to fix the Little Wekiva Road problem, and I still fault them, since this road floods even during normal storms. But no road construction, no drainage improvements, can handle the sudden influx of a river that overflows its banks. I heard an official on television blaming past developers who built houses in a flood zone, and past governments that allowed it. But we've been here more than 35 years, and although the low-lying parts of the road always flooded some, it was never anything like this. The kids used to ride their bikes through the flood waters without getting wet (if they were clever), and the houses themselves never flooded. My own suspicion is that it is not past, but recent construction that has made the difference, by paving the fields that used to absorb the rainwater.
Be that as it may, a few people in our neighborhood made out badly with Ian. We are without power and internet for an indeterminant period; we have a pool enclosure screen panel to replace; and we haven't had a chance to inspect the roof for damage, but all in all we have nothing to complain about.
I had been looking forward to an enforced time when we wouldn't have much to do but sit around and read—I have just finished Brian Jacques' Martin the Warrior and am eager to devour Bret Weinstein and Heather Heying's A Hunter-Gatherer's Guide to the 21st Century—but that time came in the middle of the night when we were trying to sleep. Now it is (almost) life-as-usual. Except a bit darker, and we both reflexively flick on the lights as we enter each room.