It's never a good thing when your cell phone interrupts you with a message about a storm. A couple of days ago ours did just that and it became clear that we would experience our first real Florida storm. Though we lived on South Beach for three years some time ago, we soon realized that the absence of storms was rare. So, being in West Palm beach this week, in November no less and soon realizing that an actual storm was upon us, was a strange feeling. Like most in Southern Florida we kept a quiet eye on the storm's projections. I did my due diligence, like many other planners and hit Costco, which is a five-minute drive away, for the essentials:
water
batteries
canned food
random stuff I always forget, but since I'm there...
All of the just-in-case items, for those just-in-case reasons. Friends and family conveyed their worry through text messages and calls. Their intention of care yielded an opposite effect, as with each call, my own calm dissipated. "Should we go inland?" I asked myself. "No, it's fine." said everyone I asked in Florida.
Floridians are different. Cavalier or careless? I guess that all depends on who's asking. People who live by the water are different. Those of us who only get to do so from time to time may never truly understand.
In fact, our neighbors to our left, whose home is generally empty, showed up with friends for a hurricane party, though beyond hearing them arrive, heard little else, thankfully.
As the hours progressed the storm went from a sub-tropical storm, to a tropical storm and at some point converted to a Hurricane only to be downgraded to a tropical storm by the end of it all. All in November. The last time a hurricane formed in November was Hurricane Kate, a category 2 storm in 1985.
How lucky, I thought, better ride that wave and play that billion-dollar Powerball before heading home too.
So, as the day progressed and the news hyped the event, we sat outside on our covered and screened-in porch with a glass of wine and enjoyed the sights and sound. There's something unique about a strong storm, the air electrifies and alters the texture of a place. Suddenly our backyard turned into a glorious production of dancing leaves, bending trees and rippling water on our pool's surface.
'Do you think the pool will flow over" I asked my husband.
"That's not how pools work." He said, deadpanned.
After a couple of hours the wind and the rain intensified. I pulled the dog out of the pool when I felt unsure as to what might fall in it. I kept a keen eye on our neighbor's banyan tree, the beautiful and majestic leaf- dropper which is the bane of our landscaper's existence. While we love this tree, he wreaks havoc on the yard but fortunately, he stood strong.
Once Archie was dried off, we all headed inside for dinner. The palm trees can be seen from our living room and were our barometer for the storm. We kept one eye on them and the other on the new season of The Crown, which I make my husband watch.
The palm trees bent toward the will of the wind and the sound put me to sleep.
In the morning I surmised the impact. Beyond leaves in the pool and fruit dropped from neighboring fruit trees, our home was unscathed. Thankfully. No loss of power or property or most importantly, people.
Feeling fortunate, I also reflected momentarily on our neighbors to the West who were less fortunate, not so long ago.
In a storm, like the lottery it is truly the luck of the draw.
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