Divine Intervention

As the city huddled in rain and wind during the Beacon Hill Art Walk on Sunday, I showed my work in the Church of the Advent, a 19th century church permeated by frankincense and Latin polyphony.

The space was enchanting. I made a number of excellent, promising contacts, had some wonderful conversations, and sold a number of smaller paintings until, with a thunderclap worthy of Revelations, a "microburst" of gale-force wind slammed Beacon Hill and environs and brought a 60-some-odd-foot tree crashing down in the churchyard and onto the building. By some "miracle," the massive trunk just missed the roof of our chapel.

Just across the street (where I'd earlier contemplated parking my car), the gust snapped a large maple in two and rolled the thing over a car, shattering the windows and bashing in the roof while closing the street to traffic except the cops.

First the sheer sudden force of the rain alone stunned us into wonderment, and then this powerful column of wind, forced rapidly down into Beacon Hill, just left everybody stunned. The whole thing was over in about 20 minutes, but Beacon Hill neighbors filled the streets for hours afterwards.

I saw trees down all over the place. People (like me) took phone pictures or stopped to marvel with strangers, clustered around giant exposed root systems clotted with chunks of earth and brick.

I love the Beacon Hill Art Walk - the people are great, and it's never the same experience twice - thank God.