As I go outside at 2 am to arm myself with a few logs to fuel the wood stove, there is an absence of silence. I am greeted by the roar of generators instead of the occasional owl screech or a soft rustle caused by wind. The evening is being interrupted by noise and needles of light that have no place at this time of day.
Our individual responses to cope with Hurricane Sandy are up and running well after The Day of the Dead denizens have retired. It seems that after the double whammy of Irene and Snotober, no one would be left in the dark any more. Last year there were few generators within earshot; now the evenings sound like a truck stop along the Interstate with the constant idle of engines spewing out fumes and little else.
I noticed yesterday that all the local gas stations were filled with people not getting gas for their cars but rather filling up cans most likely for their generators. It is ironic that after the calm of a storm the first noise to interrupt is the automatic startup of a Genrac. This is followed by chain saws cutting back trees and paths so we can escape to civilization.
Chain saws have a distinctive start and finish. Generators drone on, which becomes more noticeable during the evening. The sound seems to carry in a way that it doesn’t during the day. It intensifies till the dawn and then becomes a type of white noise always in the background subordinate to our other senses. After nearly a week without power I look forward to the down time of the night, to look at the stars, to smell the rotting leaves and burning wood. But that won’t be for a while.
