It has been pouring rain here all weekend in an unusual early-fall Nor’easter. Lots of wind, especially along the coast. Fortunately, we’re an hour’s drive inland from Boston, so the impact wasn’t as severe here. On Nantucket, winds and surf were so intense that remains of an 1884 shipwreck washed ashore.
The storm arrived just in time for the Jewish holiday of Sukkot, an eight-day festival that follows the High Holidays. A special feature of the holiday is to erect a sukkah, which is an intentionally flimsy structure that has a roof made of plant material that enables you to see the stars at night. Al always cuts pine boughs for ours. One side of this rectangular “booth” is open, and the walls are made of fabric or tarps or other lightweight material.
You’re supposed to eat meals inside it, and some people even sleep in theirs. Sitting outside in the sukkah is like taking a camping trip in your back yard. The air is fresh and clean, and you still hear the crickets and other night critters this time of year in New England. It’s truly lovely.
But in a rain storm, not so lovely. We haven’t been able to eat outside yet. Al is waiting until the storm clears to decorate it with gourds.
Despite all the wind and rain, however, our sukkah is still standing. For many years, Al built and rebuilt our sukkah with old two-by-fours and sheets, but fortunately he finally agreed with me, after it nearly collapsed in the construction process last fall, that it was time to get a sukkah kit, which has a metal pole frame and, though impermanent, is a lot safer and easier to assemble. I used some bungee cords to anchor the bottom frame to the rail of our back deck. The pine boughs are drooping, saturated with water. But it’s all still there.
Nevertheless, the impermanence of the sukkah is the whole point. It’s a very tactile way to contemplate the impermanence of life and, for me, God’s protecting presence. We may think we have control in our safe, sturdy homes, with all of our belongings and tech gadgets and such, but the reality is that control is an illusion. Change is the only constant.
And so, this year, we’ve had to wait to spend time in our sukkah. Soon enough, Al will hang the gourds and we’ll enjoy eating inside it once again.
Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.
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