Hurricane Juan - Tragedy, Christmas morn

People were shocked and saddened, but got to meet their neighbours. Power could be out for days, so thousands last night fired up barbecues. Throughout metro the post-Juan atmosphere was the rarest mixture: part tragedy, part Christmas morning.

Thousands of people were up earlier than usual yesterday, wandering out in grey light to survey the disaster. Those with battery radios reported that a state of emergency had been declared, and everyone asked to stay home. Sirens wailed, and a heavy rain began to fall.

Damage could be seen on every street. Trees had limbs snapped off. Trees were chopped in half. Trees were torn up by their roots, often ripping up sidewalks and concrete like so much paper.

I had seen one of these come down: a 15-metre-high tree pushed almost horizontal, then straighten, and finally flattened. It was ripped out of the earth whole, the base of its trunk pulling out a cake of earth four metres in diameter.

Trees fell on houses. Trees smashed cars. Three people were killed. Part of the shock was seeing these beautiful trees, our friends, not only destroyed but destroying as they fell.

By mid-morning, the rain had stopped, and chainsaws took the place of sirens. No electricity means no lights and hot water, but it also means no TV and computers. Without the usual distractions, people headed out of their homes and into the streets. Short walks turned into long excursions. The incredible must be seen to be believed.

Then the tropical sun came out, accompanied by balmy breezes. By early afternoon, thousands of people had gathered in downtown Halifax. Again the unique mixture: part carnival, part funeral.

Most stores were closed, but the few open restaurants did great business. One pizza joint had a letter torn asunder and so appeared to be offering “the Big Lice.” Santiago’s Seafood on Duke Street had a sign out advertising a Juan Special (pasta primavera).

The only day when all stores are closed and people are out and about is Christmas. Yesterday’s brilliant sun and warm breeze helped create the atmosphere you find in southern cities on Christmas Day. Except here there was a giddy edge: the extraordinary had occurred, plus this was an unexpected holiday.

After seeing the devastation in the Public Gardens — the south side is hardest hit, with massive trees lying on the ground — many people wandered to the waterfront. They had to avoid streets closed because of fallen glass. One window even fell from the premier’s office.

People expressed sadness over the death of John Rossiter, a paramedic killed when his ambulance was crushed by a fallen tree.

This horror added to a day many described as weird, unreal, or surreal. What terrible irony to be killed in a place where you worked to save lives.

People said, too, that despite hearing warnings of the hurricane’s approach, its ferocity took them by surprise. I can sympathize with this. Every winter we get several “heavy snowfall” warnings, but only rarely do we actually get a heavy snowfall. And the last hurricane we had, Hortense, seven years ago, was not like this.

The look of our city is changed because of the sudden, violent death of thousands and thousands of trees. Being a green city starts with trees. Trees add grace and beauty to every street in every season.

Only a small percentage were destroyed, but we need to immediately commit ourselves to replacing them. And when we plant new trees, which will one day grow to be as stately as the ones we lost, let us commemorate the people who died in this storm.

dswick@hfxnews.ca