Joaquin

It’s raining. It rained yesterday. It rained the day before yesterday. And the day before that day. And so on. Today is the eighth consecutive day of rain in central Virginia. More is on the way. Days more.

At the moment, Joaquin the Hurricane is lolling amongst the Turks and Caicos Islands in the Caribbean. Those who study such things say that soon Joaquin will leave that area and head northeast, paralleling the East Coast, though it may – may – veer into the Carolinas or Virginia. There’s a small chance Joaquin could pass right over my house, like a blimp, though with considerably more wind and rain than you get with a blimp.

I imagine a few brave airmen (and possibly brave airwomen) have been flying airplanes into Joaquin to study the storm so that weather boffins can make more accurate predictions about it. (These brave aircrews are called hurricane hunters. Five aircrews have been lost during such missions since the missions began.) Thank you, brave airpersons.

My small city has seen multiple hurricanes during the last decade. In 2012, a nearby house had it’s metal roof peeled back like the lid of a sardine tin. Trees were toppled; some fell onto homes. Electric wires went down. Grocery stores ran out of food. Ice machines ran out of ice. Gas stations couldn’t pump gas. And that storm, called Sandy, only grazed us. When it came ashore in New Jersey, it was so destructive that it earned the nickname “Superstorm Sandy.”

What will Joaquin do? Weather boffins say, “It will probably go this way, but it might go that way.” Translation: “It’s too early to say.” Those who might be in its path will stock up on food, fill water jugs, check flashlights, fuel their cars, charge mobile phones. And then … wait.