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Impressive, isn’t it?

Usually, in Florida, this is about the time we hold our breath and check to make sure our belongings are as secured as they can be and doublecheck the boards (or shutters, or whatever) on the windows. But it appears Hurricane Irene’s worst will be reserved not just for the Carolinas, but for the northeast. I’ve always wondered how the northeast would react to a storm like this. Unfortunately, we’re about to find out. I’d encourage residents up and down the East Coast of the United States not to take this storm lightly. Secure small objects, lay in a supply of water (one gallon per person, per day) and batteries for flashlights, and have enough nonperishable food to last three days. Even being without power for a few days (let alone weeks) can be miserable, and if you don’t have the right supplies, it’s much worse. You might also stock a cooler with ice. It won’t last forever, but it can tide you over. We also make sure we have gas for our generator and propane for our grill. The grill, which also has a burner, meant we ate pretty well in 2004 when we were without power after both Frances and Jeanne. Plus it’s a way to cook meat that’s in your freezer before it goes bad. Also make sure you have a car charger for your cell phone, make sure your car has gas, and get some cash ahead of time.

Here are my links to tropical weather data, including model tracks.

Here are FEMA’s hurricane preparedness tips.

Want to learn more about hurricanes? See the Sky Diary kids’ hurricane page.

For entertaining, thorough weather discussions of Irene and Florida weather in general, check out Steve Sponsler’s High Speed Dirt blog.

I’ve often heard people say that in Florida, “like clockwork,” a storm pops up about 3 p.m. in the summer. That’s almost true, and it may be more true farther south in, say, Miami. Probably somewhere in the state a storm pops up, but we don’t always get them here on the east-central coast. Today, we sure did, as storms moved in from the west, with a lot of lightning and dramatic structure. I’d still rather have a nighttime lightning storm for photography’s sake, but this one was impressive as it moved into Cocoa, as seen from next to the S.R. 520 causeway.

As I was on the way to the memorial service yesterday, a mass of rain and storms was rolling into the Space Coast. I stopped for just a moment to get this photo of a toothy shelf cloud moving over the barrier islands. At points it looked as if there were fingers draping over the landscape as I got closer to it and then was lashed by the rain. Florida is king of the shelf clouds.

We’ve had much-needed rain this week in the form of daylong gully-washers. The National Weather Service in Melbourne recorded 2.48 inches of rain June 29, a record. The next day, it noted 1.29 inches. June had 5.9 inches, compared with 16.91 for the year overall – more than a third of the year’s rainfall, much of it in two days!

I thought I’d check out the sea-breeze storms on June 23, since they were such a pretty, puffball, popcorn white against the blue sky. But they also lived fast and died young, going up quickly, dumping their rain and pretty much dissipating. Still, it made for a pleasant afternoon driving around what I call Florida’s prairie, the flat areas in the middle where few people live. I sure did see a lot of orange groves near Holopaw, though. And another thing I can note: It’s probably a good idea to take a “no trespassing” sign seriously when it’s posted on a fence next to a big pile of spent bullets, not to mention fire ants.

I started Sunday’s storm chase – let’s just say chase – with enough optimism to make me get up before 5 a.m. to get to Nebraska from Oklahoma. I was thinking I might have to play the northern extremes of the state, which is a seriously long drive. On the way, I stopped to get a few sunrise photos, and I talked with Steve Sponsler about his analysis of the day, and then I did my own forecast when I stopped at the dirtiest Starbucks I’d ever seen in York, Nebraska. (I can rough it, but goodness, this is Starbucks, home of the $5 cup of coffee. Clean the tables once in a while.)

It looked to me as if I didn’t need to go that much farther – perhaps north a bit, near the warm front. I went north of Columbus but south of Norfolk (which the weather radio voice around here calls “Norfork,” apparently the computer version of the native pronunciation), then did a circle, then decided as the computer models became more pessimistic to get farther north, near the warm front. And then, it became clear, the cap was going to win. That’s the warm temperatures above the surface that prevent a storm from breaking through. I got a few photos of one towering cumulus that gave it a valiant try. It was kinda pretty. But that was it.

I finished the day in O’Neill, Nebraska, after running into the Cloud 9 and Extreme tours folks, along with a few of the “Storm Chasers” folks, in a mass convergence at Pizza Hut. So today, I’ve been to the Swede capital of Nebraska (Stromsburg) and the Irish capital of Nebraska (O’Neill). The hotel has a live shamrock on the counter. Just how many of these capitals are there? Is there a tornado capital? Hoping for better chasing on Monday, but my expectations have been officially lowered on the first storm-chasing day of my 15th season of chasing.

At least, the storm driving has begun. I started Friday afternoon in Florida, and now I’m in Norman, Oklahoma, missing my dogs and hubby but enjoying the Mexican food.

I should admit that I’m a little bit obsessive. If I want to get something done, I’ll dive in until it’s done. If I want to get to storms in northern Nebraska, I’m willing to get up before dawn to drive there. And it looks like that’s what I’ll have to do to get into play, possibly near the South Dakota border, in time to catch whatever might fire. And, as always, I hope whatever fires gets into the juicier air before dark. A lot of ifs, as usual.

I’ve already had a lot of alone time in the car and caught up on some of my “This American Life” podcasts and listened to Tina Fey’s “Bossypants,” a funny, quirky memoir that convinces me I have a lot of her neuroses and southeast Pennsylvania background, minus the mostly gay theater camp, but only 1 percent of her success. I also came up with some ideas for the novel I’m writing and took some audio notes. But I can’t really write that way. I need a chauffeur so I can write while he is driving. Meanwhile, I’ll stockpile ideas and hope I still have the inspiration when I have more than five minutes to sit down and write.

My friend Steve Sponsler spotted this video on YouTube. Give it a minute. The tornado emerges between the buildings, and its power and speed are incredible. I’m not just talking about the wind speed … the land speed is stunning. This thing was racing across the city.

I recently had the chance to take some photos of my friend Heidi and her beautiful little boy, Ryan, who was on the cusp of his second birthday. It’s fun finding that moment of joy and capturing it on camera, but I love all the expressions that cross a child’s face, including the grumpy ones. I wonder what I was thinking at that age. Probably, “Can I have a cookie?” I added a few photos to that gallery this weekend when I dropped by Ryan’s birthday party.

 

At another party, at a lovely location along the Indian River Lagoon, I shot a few photos of friends and their kids. We have furry children (dogs), so it was fun to see the real kids playing among the rocks, stalking one another with Nerf guns and making s’mores. All of that marshmallow-roasting is enough to make a girl nostalgic.

 

The weather has been gorgeous here in Florida, but I’m waiting for the pattern to change out west so I can hit the road for my annual storm-chasing trip. After last week’s violent tornadoes, the atmosphere seems to be taking a breather.

I could only watch in horror and amazement yesterday (April 27) as tornadoes ripped through the South – particularly Alabama – on TV and on the ABC 33/40 station’s live stream. This is one of the more stunning videos to come out of yesterday, posted by ‘jason835a’ on YouTube. It was shot from the University Mall parking lot in Tuscaloosa – and it is an ample demonstration of the point that if you see a tornado apparently sitting still and getting larger, it is coming right for you. Incredible stuff. I have a feeling I’d be freaking out just as much as the driver here.

I can’t emphasize enough that everyone needs to have a plan for where to go for shelter, and a weather radio. Have the radio on whenever there is a potential for severe weather. There was a fair amount of warning for the killer Tuscaloosa-Birmingham tornado, but many lives were lost. I’m sure that’s partly because shelter was inadequate in some cases – this is the kind of tornado that will destroy anything above ground – but it’s so essential to get those warnings. They give people time to find shelter. My thoughts are with the victims and their families today.

I am disturbed and amazed at the wave of tornado onslaughts … and now flooding, too … all in the same area. People keep asking me why I’m not there. Many chasers are seeking and finding the storms, but many tornadoes are occurring in what is referred to as “the jungle,” because of the hills and trees. In other words, visibilty is low, making it extra hard to track the storms. And of course, the people who live there can’t see them coming, either. If you are in the danger zone, leave your weather radio on. It will give you the best and fastest warning.