Watch out! Weather coming!

I live in the forgotten country — the lost land of the Blackstone Valley — where no one tells you nothing. When weather people stand in the studio and do their predicting, they always position themselves so you can see the entire Commonwealth of Massachusetts except where we live because that is where they always stand. If they give a passing mention to the valley, that’s a lot. I have learned to read weather maps because I’m not going to get any information any other way.

Dinosaurs could be roaming the Valley and no one would notice unless one of them ate a tourist.

t-rex

We’re turning the corner into summer, usually a relatively quiet weather period. Except for the massive tornado in Oklahoma and the violent storms here today, part of the same huge weather system that’s affecting almost the entire country from the west to New England. Last year we had Sandy the super-storm, a weather system so extensive the entire east coast and many places inland were sucked into the vortex.

The coming of Sandy the monster storm was announced with the usual hysteria. In the end, it missed us, though not by much. It devastated areas all around us, but we slipped through a little bubble between pieces of storm. I saw it on the weather map, but it was such a little bubble, if the storm’s path had altered even the tiniest bit, we would have been engulfed. Sandy was a huge, evil storm. The thing is, with all the over-the-top hype, I paid very little attention to it because I’m so used to the weather folks making everything sound like the end of the world is coming. So I didn’t make even the smallest preparations until the last possible moment, by which time no even had bottled water to buy. I’d been so numbed by all the hyperbole about previous storms that never materialized, it became meaningless noise.

That’s what’s wrong with the all-frenzy-all-the-time approach to weather forecasting. It’s become the standard all over the place.

In this neck of the woods, we got a lot of weather. A local running joke is “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” We tend to be glum  and resigned about snow because most winters, we get a lot of it. Sometimes so much we wonder if the roof will cave in under the weight. Roofs actually do collapse, so it isn’t entirely unrealistic to worry about it.

Blizzards, tropical rains and hurricanes, hail, sleet, ice storms, powerful thunder squalls (we’re having one right now) that down trees and power lines and occasionally become tornadoes … we get it all. Not the gigantic twisters, but pretty much everything else. Everything is normal here. That’s just the way it is in New England and always has been, far as I know.

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This is a river valley and a watershed. Rivers overflow. When they do, you can row, row, row your boat down the Main Street of any town in the valley, all of which are built along the banks of the Blackstone or one of its many tributaries. Some lucky villages, like Uxbridge, have both the Blackstone and a major tributary (the Mumford) running through the middle of town.

It produces beautiful autumn foliage pictures, but autumn can also be pretty sodden. When hurricanes are active, we may not get most of the wind, but we get shockingly heavy rains. To put things in perspective, the Blackstone isn’t the Mississippi. Our towns don’t wash away. It may take a few days for flood water to recede, but that’s as far as it goes. Basements get flooded, trees come down, but it isn’t the end of the world, just a pain in the butt. And sometimes expensive.

We are hardly the only area with rapidly changing, unpredictable, and sometimes bizarre weather, but we do get more hysterical about it than they do in many other places. Our TV meteorologists become crazed as weather systems approach. You’d think they’d never seen a snowstorm before as they predict blizzards to rival or exceed the big one in 1978. The blizzard of ’78 was in fact a monumental storm and has become The Storm against which all others are measured. It was a killer and only a handful of meteorologists predicted it correctly. Sometimes, the weather actually exceeds the hype. Many of our worst storms are under predicted. The bigger the hoopla, the more likely it is to fizzle.

Wherein lies the problem.

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Why get upset about the frenzy? It’s harmless, isn’t it? Weather sells. When big weather systems, like hurricanes or blizzards threaten, people who normally don’t watch the news tune in. Higher ratings, lots of teasers (“Seven feet of snow on the way!! Will you be buried tomorrow? Story at 11!”), and excited meteorologists. It’s money in the bank. Doom is a perennial best-seller.

I understand why TV station love to whip everyone into a frenzy. For them, it’s just business. Weather prediction doesn’t carry with it the usual issues of journalistic responsibility. No one can call you to task for being wrong because, after all, it’s the weather.

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I don’t get why people who live here get so lathered up. My neighbors know it’s going to snow in the winter. They know it’s going to rain in the spring. We all know it’s likely to flood at some point. You hope it won’t be your basement. Almost everyone has a sump, a pump, drains and ditches to deal with spring flooding. It’s messy and inconvenient, but hardly unexpected. So why do they buy into the frenzy? They ought — logically — to know better, wouldn’t you think?

The frenzy is not harmless.

Because the media treats every weather event like the end of the world, it makes it impossible to figure out if this next thing is serious or just more of the same. Should we lay in supplies? Ignore it? Plan to evacuate? Fill all the water containers? Cancel travel plans? Make travel plans? Head for the shelters?

Hurricane outside

Hysteria is exhausting and worse, it is numbing. Some of us actually worry when confronted with the possibility of weeks without electricity, wondering where we could go with our family and dogs — only to realize we have nowhere to go.  Telling us our world is ending is upsetting if you believe it, dangerous if it’s serious and we don’t believe it.

And who believes those guys any more? They really shouldn’t say that stuff unless it’s true. Or at least might be true. And they actually believe it’s true.

I’m assuming in areas like Oklahoma weather forecasters hold themselves to a higher standard so people won’t die because they have no faith in their meteorologists. I sure hope so.

As for me, if I can’t see the danger on a weather map, I don’t believe it. None of it.

It’s rude to scare us to death, then say “Sorry folks, forget I said that.” We don’t forget. It’s like telling the jury to ignore the testimony. You can’t unring the bell. Meteorologists are becoming bad boys who cry wolf. When the real deal occurs — and periodically, it does — will we believe them? I probably won’t and maybe that will be a dangerous mistake.

They may not be legally required to adhere to any journalistic standards, but maintaining some credibility might be a good idea.

I’m just saying, you know?

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Just Past Midnight

We didn’t get the wind or the wrath of God that all the meteorologists on television were predicting. It was not snowmageddon nor the end of the world as we know it. But, by one in the morning, it was clear we were going to be digging out from under a lot of snow, more than we had seen in several winters and possibly the largest single storm in years.

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Just before I went to bed, I managed to push the door to the deck open enough to poke half of me outside. The snow was falling so fast and so densely, you can see it. That’s not a screen … it’s falling snow.

This photograph was shot during the height of the storm, Captain Nemo, the Blizzard of 2013. Technically, it wasn’t a blizzard, but for the sake of argument, I’ll let it stand. They only named it Nemo, but I felt Captain belonged there too. This was a storm worthy of a salute.

Sandy takes Coney Island amusement zone on rough ride

See on Scoop.itForty Two: Life and Other Important Things

It may not be as bad as the Jersey Shore, but Hurricane Sandy also hit Coney Island’s amusement district pretty hard.

For those who asked what became of various parts of the area, this covers it pretty well.

See on www.nypost.com

 

Coney Island after Hurricane Sandy

See on Scoop.itForty Two: Life and Other Important Things

CONEY ISLAND, NEW YORK—Despite rumors of looting in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, there was no evidence of mobs near the area’s famous boardwalk this afternoon. around the usually bustling landmark was eerily abandoned.

See on puplewig.wordpress.com

The Cyclone and the Wonder Wheel survived. The oldest things made it through the storm. The beach has sustained serious damage and nobody is talking about the boardwalk, but we can hope.

 

Seeking The Light

To say I’ve spent the better part of a lifetime chasing the light sounds a lot more meaningful on a philosophical level than it actually is. Perhaps, on some level, it’s true: I certainly have done my share of searching for truth, justice, and right and occasionally, I’ve even found a bit of it.

The sun, just above the horizon in April. My woods.

But more often and for fa longer, I’ve been chasing light with a camera in my hand, starting up, up, up into the treetops, looking for that perfect ray of sunshine filtering through a leafy canopy, waiting for me to take that perfect picture.

Winter twilight. Facing west from my house.

Yesterday, in a hopeless but fervent attempt to put a more order into my files of photographs, I found a few hundred more pictures of sunlight through leaves, trees, clouds, whatever. Always and forever seeking light.

Then, by the way, because I think I shouldn’t just talk about it, but do it, I backed up my entire photographic library and discovered I have 16,122 pictures. Not all are my own photographs; I have other miscellaneous images including those taken by my husband and granddaughter for whom I provide a back up service. Even so, at least 90% are mine and the number is not shrinking.

When the sun comes at exactly the right angle, the woods seems to glow.

It gives me pause to think about hard drive, crashes, external storage areas, and other philosophical concepts.

Having found a trove of pictures of light and leaf, I decided to edit some. It’s a gray, rainy Wednesday.

I know we need rain. It’s been a very dry summer. You can see it in the garden and the lawn. Even the woods looks a bit beige where it would normally be the deepest green of summer.

The road home, from Upton to Milford.

Days like this are made for hot cocoa, fires on the hearth, and reminiscence of days gone by … but it’s much too warm for cocoa or a fire. So I’ll settle for pictures. And maybe, even a few pictures of fire. I have a lot of them, too.

Fire is also light, a small sun rather than the giant globe in the sky.