I am fascinated by storms. – the more violent the better. When I lived in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee, I loved watching lightning storms rolling across the sky. It was magical. Electricity crackling above me, the tingle of rain hitting exposed skin, and the acrid smell of sulfur, was like hell itself was pouring down on me. It was exciting.
Not so many mountains in Florida, but the wide vistas of open water can give you an 180° view of any approaching storm. We also have hurricanes. If you’ve ever witnessed the power of a storm of that kind of intensity, you’ve witnessed the fury of God. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
In the 20 years that I’ve lived on the Florida Gulf Coast, I was forced to evacuate for three storms. All Category 3 or stronger hurricanes. During a few lesser storms, I’ve gone to the beach to watch them come ashore, being careful not to be caught up in the deluge or the sirens’ song.
With the storm whipping around me, fighting to stay on my feet and keeping my eyes open, my heart pounding and my ears ringing, I also can’t stop smiling, and sometimes laughing out loud. With a wall of water and wind bearing down on me, I feel insignificant, but also part of something incredible.
If I had the wherewithal, I would be a storm chaser in a heartbeat.