I think the strongest winds since we’ve been in the Pacific NW. Some gusts to 60 mph.
I’d thought maybe they wouldn’t happen—because it had started to rain, and I thought the front might have piffled. But then…
We got a weather warning on telly, and I decided to head out in muffies and night-robe to bring in the gulls sculpture and the little Chinese bridge thingie, and then realized the patio furniture needed to be rearranged. By the time I got inside, somewhat soppy soaked about the edges, the wind had started to blow.
It blew over Jane’s beloved yard swing—again. We’re going to have to put in some new canopy support rods. But this time it blew the very heavy swing seat completely to the street, right up by the curb. I saw it, and Jane and I in robes and muffies went out into the dark and the storm to gather up the swing seat and carry it (with one argument with a rosebush and some bloodshed) along the somewhat obstructed path to the side of the house, where it sits.
The big green trashcan blew over, and lies there this morning. We’re going to need to go out and pick up the swing frame and set it to rights. We think it blew over because of the oscillations of the heavy swing seat, but I’m planning how I can secure those swing frame feet to the ground, maybe tying them to four big rocks, or driving in modern tent stakes, which in this stony soil will take more mallet than we own, or going so far as to try to drive 4 pieces of rebar down into the soil. I think modern grippy tent pegs might be the sanest solution.