It’s that time of year, and I’m feeling the pull. The call. The urge. The bug.
All I want to do is stare at weather maps, charts and forecast models. All pointed at the Atlantic. I’m in search of tropical waves and storms brewing out in that vast seething ocean. Kicked off the African coastline and riding a freight train for the Caribbean and parts north. Think: Elementary school kids released on the last day of school. Completely cut loose. All screaming, “Freedom! Let’s flatten some houses!”
Hurricane season is in full effect.
And just as the tropics start getting down to business, I get my annual hurricane obsession. Part fear, part fascination, and a whole lot of morbid curiosity sprinkled on. (Like, what would happen if two hurricanes collided … OVER MIAMI!?!). Plus, my own brand of amateur forecasting. (Translation: Another dude who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.)
I’m turning into a bit of a weather geek. I sit at my computer studying Web sites, discussions, animated maps and lots of forecast charts with squiggly lines and strange numbers that I can’t make sense of no matter how long I stare at them. Maybe it’s color by numbers? Maybe if I stare long enough, I’ll see pictures of rabbits or rocket ships?
I don’t know, but it’s all so fascinating. Because it’s weather. And it’s science. And it’s hurricanes. I’m into it, man, and can’t get enough.
I don’t want to just make sense of it. I also want to use it to draw my own analysis and conclusions. Something I see and the experts missed. That I can add to the story. It leads me to cook up wild theories, none of which have any basis in established meteorology. I’m more conspiracy theorist than sanctioned weatherman. My predictions rarely come to pass, and are often based on ridiculous assumptions: That cloud pattern looks like a buzz-saw … or Pac-Man! I bet it will do some damage in the Caribbean.
Or environmental evidence I notice that must have some deeper meaning for events thousands of miles away in the Atlantic. “You know, I saw three cardinals dancing a jig in the street,” I might say. “I think that means the tropical patterns are really in flux.” Or “You know the pentas didn’t bloom very well this year. Betcha’ we’re in for a hot hurricane season.”
It makes me more witch doctor than weather guru. Or nuts.
But that doesn’t stop me from trying. Or learning. Or studying. Because it’s such a fascinating ballet out there. How wind shear and even Saharan dust can dash the hopes of so many aspiring tropical waves. How seemingly benign thunderstorms blowing off the coast of Africa can spin up into city-destroying monsters. The power of mother nature on full display. Seeing historical events played out on weather maps. Knowing that cardinals in MY yard are playing a role! It’s incredible.
Only, for weather geeks to be happy, there unfortunately has to be weather. And this kind brings destruction. Last time we had a hurricane blow through here, the backside of my house got a little too acquainted with an overly affectionate Southern Red Cedar. It wanted to come inside and watch TV. Luckily my porch got in the way.
I find myself struggling with this all the time. The thrill of these storms surging through the Atlantic versus the fear of a homeowner who knows one coming here could spell doom for my 100-year-old house that is blocks away from the water on all sides.
This morning I dropped checks for flood and property insurance in the mail. For that kind of money, I could have bought an island off the coast of Portugal. It’s all to make sure that I’m covered in the eventuality that the worst happens. There are few things that you pay for in life that you hope have zero return on investment. But this one of them.
It makes me wonder why I’m not wishing them away, rather than cheering them on. Getting excited when I see the National Hurricane Center maps pop up with yellow X’s and percentage predictions about storm formation. Waiting excitedly for new runs of forecast models so I can see what the computer simulations are predicting for the paths and power of these developing storms.
Really?!? Do you remember how not-fun power outages are? Wondering if your roof has the will to stick it out, or the urge to visit your neighbor’s front yard? How there might be other Southern Red Cedars looking to come inside from the rain?
Maybe my fascination – this weather bug I’ve got – is a little unhealthy. Maybe I should be praying to the Weather Gods to spin-down storms, not fire them up. Maybe I should be praying for November to get here, when the season officially ends and all goes calm in the Tropics again.
Well, at least until June. Then I can get excited all over again. A hurricane junkie can’t go too long without his tropical fix.