When you live in a country that stretches from sea to shining sea, at any given moment someone somewhere is having more weather than they want or can use. It’s as much geography as it is meteorology; kismet has precious little to do with it.
Having spent much of the last year watching from the safety of my living room TV as drought, tornados, forest fires and High Plains snowstorms battered most if not all the contiguous forty-eight states and even more than that on more than one occasion, it’s me and my neighbors’ turn.
Driving rainstorms of what appears (to me) to be frogs and other amphibians have fallen, are falling, have been promised to fall for most of the next ninety-six hours or so. Wednesday we were still fretting about a near double-digit rainfall deficit this year across New England. Not so much now, thanks.
Remember how we rushed to help you during your spell with Mother Nature? Yeah, that’s what I mean. And that’s how much I’d expect you to help me, too. Fair is fair. No need to feel sorry for us; we’re doing a pretty good job of it ourselves and, besides, we hate competition.
I suppose in terms of atmospheres and wish-you-were-heres it all works out about the same. I’d imagine it’s true for you too: laughing when the TV weather folks give an approaching storm an actual name since I, too, give ’em a name, just not anything I’d want to repeat in front of my mom. Or yours either, as a matter of fact.
- bill kenny