“Parts of the South that endured severe weather outbreaks in consecutive weeks won’t be able to catch a break in the near future. AccuWeather forecasters say more volatile weather will arrive as soon as this weekend, and stormy weather could be unrelenting even into next week.” – Yahoo
Look, if we wanted to play tag with dozens of nasty tornados, we’d move to Tornado Alley.
Thursday was a noisy weather day here in north Georgia: continuous rain, severe thunderstorms. The tornados occurred primarily in Alabama except for the one that devastated the Atlanta suburb of Newnan. We were on the edge of the tornado watch and will be again before the weekend is over.
We’re still under a flood warning from the last batch of rain. Now this, according to weather.com:
So, if you know Mother Nature, please let her know we don’t need no more tornados.
Everyone and their brother has recorded “Stormy Weather” since Ethel Waters sang it at the Cotton Club in 1933. I like the song a lot. I also like stormy weather.
If you’re a fan of the Seth books, you know that those books suggest that the weather we experience is the weather we draw to us. I think this is true. However, I really need to finish mowing my yard and I can’t do that when the grass is wet. It’s been wet for weeks.
Now, a Cat-4 hurricane is coming ashore, after which it will pass just north of our house en route to the Atlantic where, perhaps, it will become a Cat-5 storm. In no way, do I want more stormy weather in our neighborhood. So, I’m blaming the whole mess on people in Texas.
Yes, I know, you probably didn’t realize that your upset about one thing and another drew Hurricane Laura to your doorstep. Please, if you need to do this again, keep the storm there rather than letting it escape just north of the Georgia/Tennessee line.
We’re already wet.
“Hurricane Michael was the third-most intense Atlantic hurricane to make landfall in the United States in terms of pressure, behind the 1935 Labor Day hurricane and Hurricane Camille of 1969. It was also the strongest in terms of maximum sustained wind speed to strike the contiguous United States since Andrew in 1992. In addition, it was the strongest on record in the Florida Panhandle, and was the fourth-strongest landfalling hurricane in the contiguous United States, in terms of wind speed”. – Wikipedia
I cannot help but follow the weather maps and news about Hurricane Michael. When referring to Mexico Beach and Panama City, Florida, the word “catastrophe” is often used. I grew up in Tallahassee which is about 20 miles from the coast. We spent many hours along the coast from St. Marks to Alligator Point to Carrabelle to Apalachicola. We seldom went to Panama City because–even then–it routinely filled up with tourists. I’d never been to Mexico Beach.
The photographs, as editors keep saying, look like a war zone. I’ve seen this before, but not on this scale in Florida. It’s a miniature Katrina. We saw most of the affected coastline as kids from speedboats and sailboats. We spent many hours at a St. Theresa beach cottage owned by good friends. I hope it’s still there. It’s hard to look at all this in news pictures just as it’s hard to look at Glacier National Park wildfire stories in news pictures.
Not that I could do anything if I were there, but I feel like I should be there even though I’ve been away from the Florida Panhandle for so many years, I know very few people there anymore. Yet, there’s something special about the places where we grew up and/or spent a lot of time that draws us to them when the people there are in trouble.
The area where Michael hit has often been called “the forgotten coast” because most of the tourism and development were elsewhere. In that sense, I have always been happy it was forgotten because I didn’t want it to attract the commercialized mess of places like Daytona Beach. But now, I hope that FEMA programs and agencies that help with rebuilding places after so-called acts of God don’t forget the forgotten coast.