Reading this sends shivers up my spine. The description of being awakened by strange rumbles and seeing trees going upstream sent me back to the ice-storm of 1998. I was without power for 26 days in the beginning of January. I remember being exhausted, trying to go to sleep at night, but hearing trees and branches come crashing down, covered with inches of ice, breaking into million of pieces on the ice-covered snow below. Like a mad bull in a crystal shop. The trees seemed to groan in pain first, then wood snapping sounds and glass shattering, then the anticipated crash and thuds when the big pieces would make the coat of ice sitting on the snow rumble like a big drum. Night after night, having a hard time sleeping because of the destruction outside, shivering because of the cold inside, wondering if the roof would hold up. In the dark, the very, very dark night. Half of my hair turned white after that. But trees and branches grow back. At least, I don't have to breathe ash.

The peninsula of land that those trees grew upon doesn't exist any more.