That’s the U.S. State of Georgia — the one Donald Trump was talking about when he told the people to get out and vote, but showed a picture of the Republic of Georgia instead.

But that’s irrelevant. There’s a hurricane a-comin’, and she’s a beaut.

I’m writing this on Thursday evening, but probably won’t publish it until after midnight Friday, just before turning in for the night and trying to sleep. Helene is about to hit Apalachicola, Florida, as a category 4 storm, and should head north/northwest from there. We are located well east of the projected track of Helene’s eye, about 35 miles northwest of Savannah, Georgia; but the effects are widespread, and we’re already getting heavy rain, with thunderstorms and possible tornados forecast for later tonight.

We’re far enough inland that we don’t get the storm surges from the ocean. But there are lots of rivers and creeks nearby, and some of them tend to flood every time it drizzles. Since this area is already built on swampland (don’t ask me why they did that), there isn’t room underground to absorb a whole lot of rain water, so it just pools wherever it can — on roads, in people’s yards, in parking lots, on flat roofs, mixing with the chlorinated water in swimming pools and overflowing . . . wherever.

Hey, have I mentioned that I’m not really fond of the climate here?

I was born a Yankee. Originally from New Hampshire, we lived there and in Rhode Island, then back in New Hampshire, until moving to the Washington, D.C. area when I was 13. I thought that was pretty far south at the time. Now when I tell folks I’m from D.C., they say, “Oh, a Yankee!” So I tell them that while I worked in the city, I actually lived in the suburbs of Northern Virginia. It’s below the Mason-Dixon Line. But to the locals here in Georgia, that’s still Yankee territory. It’s all relative.

Now, in all fairness, the climate in Washington isn’t the greatest either — especially in the summer. It’s hot and humid (though usually about ten degrees cooler than here). But it does have four seasons. While fall arrives a little later than in New Hampshire, it does show up, and the trees do change color when the nights turn chilly.

Here in Georgia, spring and fall each last about three days. I really miss the cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin in April, and snuggling into the sweaters and vests in October.

I’m truly not crazy about the climate here, you know.

Winter usually brings at least one or two good snow events to the D.C. area. Of course, they play havoc with the traffic, but there’s nothing prettier than the National Mall — stretching west to east from the Washington Monument, past the Lincoln Memorial, and on to the U.S. Capitol — covered in snow.

They don’t know snow in Georgia. I’m told it did snow once, about five or six years ago. All hell broke loose, of course, but it melted within a day or two. They still talk about it a lot . . . the way San Franciscans talk about the 1906 earthquake.

But mostly what gets to me are the extremes. Washington doesn’t get a lot of hurricanes, and the ones that do hit there are generally already on the downslide. I recall a time when tornados were unheard-of there. Climate change has brought a few to the area, but most of the tornado watches just fizzle out. Thunderstorms are common in the summer, but if you don’t stand under a tree or out in the middle of a golf course with a hunk of metal in your hand, you should be just fine.

Here, every storm — and they’re almost a daily event in the summer — brings with it a good chance of a tornado or two. And the heat? Well, let’s just say that no one has to pay to have a sauna built into their home; every home is already in one gigantic, outdoor sauna.

Have I mentioned yet that I really, really hate the climate here? I have? Too bad.

Anyway, this will probably be my only posting on Friday’s blog; I’ll be busy making sure my emergency pack contains everything I’ll need while we wait for the helicopter to come pick us up from the roof as the house floats down I-95.

But I’ll be back in touch as soon as I can recharge my phone. Which reminds me: Did I pack that charger?

Gotta run now . . .

Brendochka
9/27/24

P.S. In case I forgot to mention it, about the climate here . . . Yeah, yeah, I know. Enough already.