Here's looking at you, Ike.

We found out from some of the neighbors why our subdivision was very lucky during the latest hurricane--- the eye of Ike passed right over here. Literally right over our subdivision. The neighbors who chose to stay here heard the storm's winds and rain, then the ghostly silence of Ike's eye, followed by the rest of the winds and soaking rains. When we came back to our neighborhood, as we were all tsk-tsking over the loss of thirty-year-old oaks and elms, twisted lawn furniture and smashed fences, other homeowners in subdivisions closer to the Bay were dealing with waist-high water and the resulting damage.

Our favorite little Greek restaurant, barely a twenty-minute ride from our front door, is now cleaning up from four feet of water. The restaurant is located right in front of an island community in Kemah, all of which was innundated with three or four feet of water. All those stilted island homes with the pretty palms are now sopping and soggy with mud and water (not to mention fish and debris) from the Bay. The Greek restaurant has been flooded before; they are cleaning up now and will most likely (hopefully) be open for business as soon as they can.

The trees and large branches all over our subdivision are now out on the curb-side part of our lawns. Mostly everyone has had their lawn services come by and rake up and clean up as best as they could. Lawns have been mowed, and now look green and leaf-free again, but the stretch of grass near to the curbs are just covered with piles of branches and tree limbs, some piles reaching six feet high. The once green leaves are now turning brown and brittle from the heat, which thankfully didn't come back until we all got electricity again. How nice it was to turn the central air units to the on position, and to hear the familiar hum of the fridge.

Now, of course, all the neighbors are wondering who is going to take away these mountains of tree debris? The city of Houston? Clear Lake City? Our own individual subdivisions? Or will we all have to just pay someone to come by with a truck to haul all of this out of here? Most of the trees on our street now have dead branches hanging precariously from other branches that were spared by the winds of Ike. One good rainstorm with some wind from the Gulf, and those dead branches are sure to come spilling down. Tree-trimming companies are backed-up with calls, and we haven't even tried to call anyone yet. Our next-door neighbor has the largest branches still hanging from her trees, so we figured if we both called the same tree company, maybe they would give us a discount for taking care of all our trees during the same visit.

We are all thankful that our subdivision didn't flood, that the water in the bayou running through here didn't rise up over its banks. There are so many neighborhoods very close to us that are still sweeping out the mud, siphoning out the water, drying out whatever is usable in their homes. If I were faced with that task, I do believe I would just take out what we could, slap a "For Sale, As Is" sign on the front door, and just look for another house.

Ike was kind to us here: he simply gave us his eye. The other waterfront and near-to-Bayfront areas got other parts of his anatomy.