Where’s Hermine?



I was expecting Hermine to pass by, drenching us with torrential rain and blowing down some of the old oak trees that abound in this neck of the woods. But it doesn’t look as if anything like that is going to happen.

The tropical storm – and potential hurricane – is tracking more to the north of us than the weather experts predicted. It’s completely still here in Lakeland, Florida. Not a leaf is stirring. Not a drop of rain is falling.

Our cats are hiding, spooked I suppose by the darkness.

No birds are chirping. Even the tree frogs are silent. They were making quite a racket yesterday when it rained and rained.

Now, there is only the muffled whir of traffic on the Interstate. And even that is more muted than usual.

Julius and I played golf this morning. We had the course to ourselves, and played 18 holes in two-and-a-half hours. (As Ike used to say, don’t ask me what I scored.)

Now. I’m passing the time writing this blog as I wait for the rain we were told to expect. Later, I will watch some golf.

I will not be switching to the news channels. I am Trumped out. If I hear one more word from or about that buffoon, I will run screaming into the street, tearing at what hair I still have.

I voted on Tuesday. In the primary. And I will vote in the general election in November. Meanwhile, I will try to avoid the political chatter.

I know, you think my life sounds dull. And I don’t blame you.

Life is not very exciting here at the end of Post Lane. You might even call it boring. But as Sandra observed recently, boring isn’t so bad.