The Daily

The Hurricane

I posted this picture on September 15, 2017, when Hurricane Irma rolled in. It has happened again. I don’t have much to add about the ongoing devastation from Hurricane Ian that hit five years later. Except, that it is much worse. The word is that all Lee County hospitals (owned and operated by the same county tax district) are without water and evacuations are underway.

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.

This time, I think I’ll add the words from one of Florida’s treasured songwriters. I saw JJ Grey and Mofro at the foot of the Punta Gorda bridge during the Big Orange Music Festival a few years back. It was ground zero for Hurricane Ian’s eye, complete with Jim Cantore broadcasting a stone’s throw away from the stage.

I felt the wind blow in
I felt the rain come down
I felt the peace within
That can never be without… ride on
Ride on, ride on, ride on

JJ Grey & Mofro, The Hurricane