New Hampshire Nature Notes
by Eric Orff

An ill-wind blows across NH. A walk with Katrina.

Thursday 09/01/2005

Katrina hovered over NH all day yesterday and into the evening. Yesterday afternoon, on my return from the Portsmouth area, I couldn't help but study the sagging ragged-edged clouds of Katrina as I drove. I swung around the South side of Great Bay to check some Fish and Game properties and stood for a short time on the edge of the Bay shore.

I had feelings of angst and almost anger as I stared deep into the gray galloping clouds. The hot, muggy, dank, tropical air from the south seemed to stick to my skin. I realized that I was breathing in air, that just 48 to 72 hours ago, stirred the Gulf Sea to towering 50 foot waves then lashed the coast like a whip. Here was the air skulking across my horizon that just hours ago had shouts of prayers, curses of anger and untold misery added to it's churning mixture. Here was the air that many breathed their last breath in before being swallowed by the seas cast miles inland by it's hand. This sky angered me. Katrina was nearly spent, save for a burst of showers spraying my face, as I too spoke to her too.

At days end I took a hike into Bear Brook State Park with my neighbor Rick and our shorthaired pups, who are sisters. It was watching their glee of life that finally turned my thoughts to more positive things. Even the last vestiges of Katrina seemed less devious. The steady pace of the north-marching clouds slowed a bit as the last glow of the sun silhouetted them. Stars erratically announced their presence in the heavens about the storm clouds by finding holes to poke through. Rick and I paused under the power lines to study the sky for a bit. Occasionally the lines would roar in resonance with the wind of the fleeing clouds. This is more of a winter sound to me when a Noreaster stirs the frozen lines to life. Katrina was headed due North into Canada where the last remnants of it's power and strength will be wrung out by the cool Canadian air. We can all celebrate the death of this monster. Just as we headed off the last 200 yards toward the gate another roar of wind swept by us. I glanced at my watch; It was 9:46. Katrina had just been booted out of the air around me by a high pressure front. The air suddenly was sweet and dry. Another gift from Canada no doubt.

This morning, perhaps from the boot of clear dry air, my front lawn is littered with bright orange and red maple leaves. Life has returned to normal for me. Yet my mind and heart keeps dwelling on the devastation 2,000 miles away. A maple leaf dabbled lawn looks so sweet to me this morning.