Gate open; banging shut -ceaselessly.

Too sleepy to do anything about it.

Wind whistling down the chimney flue and rattling the fireplace screen.

Furnace clicking on and off, on and off, on and off,

Garbage pail, not mine, rolling down the driveway,

White tarp - huge - flies up against the window

And settles down below.

My little wooden reindeer is on his back,

Ambulance sirens pass  sounding - frantic.

Lights dim - twice - but remain on as I stand

Watching - reaching for a candle from the shelf.

My cake just placed in the oven is endangered.

Radio on and warnings in red - light up the TV screen,

Dark, dark threatening sky.

The sundeck - a mess,

Table and chairs hurled against the side,

Floral umbrella leans over the edge.

My cake smells good.

There is comforting warmth from the oven

Reminding me of my mother's kitchen.

I inhale - grateful for the gifts of electric lights and added time.

Leaves scurry down the street,

Fat buds on branches await the sun.

Amazingly, my birdbath - a large dish filled with water - stays in place

But as I watch, a gust of wind picks up the water and lifts it skyward

Like a geyser - two feet high!

Fat robin lights on his favorite branch,

With great difficulty keeps his balance, wings aflutter

As he bounces up and down with every spurt of wind.

Two blueboxes have shifted to mid-deck

Remain full of their recylables.

Folding chairs are knocked down flat,

Even the BBQ like a two-wheeled cart - has walked a short distance.

Little cowbell dings, and the rooster sways.

Temperature reading on the thermometer is zero, perhaps one below,

Not counting wind chill.

My neighbour's decorative flowerpots that lined the steps

Have tumbled down as has the cover of their $1,000 barbeque.

Winds have been gusting up to 80 km for hours.

It is 12:30 p.m.

I am watching and waiting.

I wakened at 7 a.m. with the banging gate.

Huge trees are still swaying and would reach me if they fell.

The evergreen four stories high is standing firm

But I am told their roots are shallow.

One fell near my niece's home dragging down a pole and wires,

Shorting her computer.

Resting my hand on the kitchen door I feel a strong waft of chilly air.

In past years I'd put masking tape alongside the frame.

I do that now. 

Easy.

No more breeze but I can't use the door.

Mmmm. My cake is done and I've had a piece - my lunch.

Tampering with the recipe, I reduced the butter and the sugar.

The butter tastes okay now, but I regret the loss of sugar.

We are comfy-cosy here, although not always so.

A warm house? Not really.

We live in one or two rooms to conserve oil,

Turning on small electric heaters where needed.

Is this a "no-win" situation? Electricity versus oil?

Family friend, Jake, has shored up any drafts because these prices are rising.

Now it is one o'clock and the wind is whistling again.

No sense picking up the deck chairs and scattered plastics until it's over.

Ah - people!

Tall, young woman with high boots and dressed in the requisite black

Walks by.

The sky has lightened.

On TV, Italian opera, Anna Bolini  is being sung;

A most difficult score.

Plastic bag flutters and waves from a treetop.

Next door neighbour didn't come home last night

To repair his mother's old house after his day's work.

Too cold in there,

Leaking roof, cracked window.

Perhaps he is sleeping in a girlfriend's warm bed.

And why not?

Things used to be so rigid; blaming, punishing,

Claiming any union had to be sanctified by church or state.

Babies born "out of wedlock" were illegitimate.

I wonder if God agreed.

TWO trees now with plastic bags blowing atop.

No-one ever climbs the tree to take them down.

Young fellow who lives on his own across the street has bought

A wee red sportscar.

His mom says it is a "babe magnet."

He is rather shy.

I think it's working.

Chan. 70, the weather channel at 1:45 p.m.

Has phone-in pictures, facebook and twitter connections.

It is five degrees above zero.

There will be freezing rain tonight.

And gusts are expected to be over 100 km per hour.

We've tied shut the gate.

2 p.m.

Birds are in flight.

And the sky is darkening.

By Shirley O'Kealey