Storm watch at the ranch

I live in Florida. This is no secret, nor is it a secret that Florida can have some incredibly odd weather, in addition to some incredibly odd people (some of whom could kill you)  and some incredibly odd bugs and plants and animals (some of which could kill you). At times, I think of it like Australia because of the flora and fauna oddities, but not particularly because of the people. This is because every person I’ve ever encountered who is from there  – admittedly, not a huge number of people – has been a) rather nice, and b) quite normal, in a human kind of way that does not involve getting high on bath salts and eating someone’s face.

But here, we have Florida Man and Florida Woman, and, of course, Florida weather.

Regular readers have already encountered my musings on the vagaries of Florida weather. Right now, because I am a weather geek (complete with a weather station out in the front of the property), I’m watching our own stats while watching the radar on weatherunderground.com, trying to determine if this large storm cell that popped up in the late afternoon/early evening heat is going to charge right over us, or if our strange, Bermuda Triangle-like weather breakwater we seem to have at the ranch will cause it to slide past us as so many have before, maybe giving us a few sprinkles along the way. I watch as the radar updates and the storm spreads out like an amoeba. The reds in some places fade to orange, orange fades to yellow, and yellow goes green as the cell stomps its way across the area toward us, leaving much of the harshness behind it as it travels our way, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

This is not to say the storm will be completely polite and just rain on us. No, as you may have seen in a previous post, there is always the chance that the storm will regroup, or some lightning will come with the rain now falling or after it as the storm continues to roll along, reminding us that while we may be in charge of many things on this planet, in the end, Mother Nature could very well kill us all with a bit of determination.

This does not look like one of those times. The worst of the storm is sliding past us to the south, taking its toys to other people. The arrow points to the location of our weather station.

The lightning is concealed by far too much cloud cover for me to get a shot like I got the other day. I can see bright flashes, but no streaks. On the upside, there will certainly be other storms at other times, and this is not the last chance I’ll ever get.

For now, I’m content to sit inside and watch out the window while the sky lights up in pulses, the storm jamming to its own particular rhythm.

Until next time, peeps. Be well.

 

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