Another year, another devastating winter storm. Sigh. Such is life on the Oregon coast. And we don't even live right on the coast. We're about twenty miles inland. Global Warming is getting old, as far as "trendy stuff" goes ;) and already I'm starting to blurr details with the previous winter's blowout.
I won't soon forget, however: the 100+mph December winds; our busted fireplace chimney that we, [being starving artists] can't afford to fix, [FEMA, in its Infinite and Inexplicable Wisdom won't fix]; and the five days without electricity where temps ranged around a balmy 40º inside the house.
The two of us managed to keep our 92-year-old dementia-suffering mom from dying from exposure with all the blankets she'd tolerate and a small propane heater we judiciously used, only to lose her to uro-sepsis the following month.
This last winter, all the same, we had the good fortune to have TCAA's Five Rivers gallery building raised 31" above its four-foot height off the ground [into nosebleed territory] by a FEMA grant. The flood waters were foiled, although not by much. The water came within three steps of the landing on an eleven-step staircase. The radio station manager next door had to be ferried by boat to reach his station.
Trouble is, the gallery is not getting the traffic it needs, sales are flat-line, the economy around here is flat-line and the gallery may soon have to close even though fund-raising efforts netted enough to keep us open for another month or so.
What happens then?
My own personal studio, Shangri-La Studio–named for the wee burg where we live–will soon expand into the second largest room in the house. Soon as we clean it out. There I'll work, teach lessons and work some more. My art will hang on the walls for sale. I ultimately want to build a commercial gallery on our property, soon as our ship comes in. Uh-huh.