The Daily

Hurricane Irma

The birds knew better. They left ahead the storm. Along with the strange Saturday afternoon cloud formations pushing downriver, this was our prelude to Irma: lifeless air, unadorned with the songs that usually come at the end of a long, hot day. The anti-Opener.

Living near the Everglades, it is easy to imagine the natural world reclaiming what we built. Dragging us back into the primordial ooze of mangrove hammocks and swamp bogs from which we crawled so long ago.

By the time the birds returned, they were greeted by the angry growl from a chorus of gas generators keeping some appliances running in the heat. It was then I realized the birds weren’t singing for us – they were communicating with each other and would be as frustrated as the generator army waging this war against the natural elements.