Olympia Friends: Elizabeth Ayer, Marie Strock, Medora Espy – 1912

On September 3, 1913, my fourteen-year-old aunt Medora wrote to a friend in Olympia:
We are having a regular winter storm.  Do you know what a storm is?  Not an Oysterville one.  You see we get it from both the ocean and the bay.  The wind has already knocked the remainder of our cherry tree down; the cupboard of dishes in Sue’s playhouse toppled over and consequently she will have to abandon her house till next summer; a great piece of the trimmings of our house blew off; apples and pears litter the ground.  It is a real storm.  The bay is covered with white caps, the water has covered our lower meadow, and you could almost go down the lane leading from our house to the bay in a dinghy.  To cap it all, it has rained night and day since Monday morning in regular torrents.  It is not an unusual storm.  The natives merely remark, “Sort of wet today.”

This year, 107 years later, we’ve only had one “winter storm” that has approached Medora’s long-ago description and that was day before yesterday.  Even so, the only storm damage here at our house was a swallows’ nest blown from its perch above the window on the south porch.

Last Summer’s Barn Swallows’ Nest

I blame the swallows for that more than the wind.  They had trouble with that nest from the get-go last summer and had to start over at least twice.  I don’t think their mud was sticky enough.  Or maybe it was their first nest-building experience.  They chose a place that has been used year-after-year and in the past nests have only come down through human interference.

In any event, Medora’s long-ago commentary on the weather makes me wonder if it can be counted as one more little piece of “evidence” about climate change.  I’m sure a scientist wouldn’t think so, but it’s a wonderful bit of storm damage  documentation in any case.  So far this winter we certainly have nothing comparable to report.