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What began on August 17th as a strong tropical disturbance near Africa ended Florida’s decade-long hurricane drought two weeks later, but the story didn’t end there. The 20-day telenovela brought as many twists and turns as the last three episodes of Bachelor in Paradise (complete with tropical locales). It was an exercise in emotional fragility for weather forecasters. As one of my colleagues best put it, the storm that wouldn’t form was also the one that wouldn’t go away. Continue Reading
I am a product of the Crescent City. Most of everything that I love can be tied back to my hometown — spicy food, great music, and hurricanes. Especially hurricanes.
In the springtime, I remember looking up as giant river barges floated down the Mississippi River above my parents’ home. I spent hours high atop the levees that cradled the mighty Mississippi. To a young flat lander, those levees felt like mountains of the swampland. In a city whose average elevation is only one to two feet below sea level, they were; a 20–25 ft mound of dirt was the farthest and highest I’d ever been from the water.