A most peculiar gray

That's Florida up there, hiding in the explosion of clouds just to the north of Gustav. This NASA image taken by GOES 12 earlier today is impressive, beautiful, humbling, and frightening all at the same time.

Living along the gulf coast is certainly an odd experience with regard to these storms, to say the least. I doubt I'll ever become accustomed to it. As soon as we're in the cone of uncertainty for anything above a tropical storm, the locals buzz forth in a flurry of activity as they attempt to purchase bottled water, batteries, canned goods, and flashlights. A handful of shopping carts in isle six will contain nothing but gallon jugs of Zephyrhills, while another already past checkout has a sixpack of liter Gatorades, frozen pizzas, and box of tea light candles. Each time, every time, it is as if no one has ever done this before, as if the threat and fear of a new storm wipes away the memories of all the ones that came before it. 48 hours prior to landfall, the gas pumps run slow as they try to pull from the depths of the underground tanks. 24 hours before landfall, they're dry. People rush online to see what flood zone they live in, others look to their roof and ponder the possibility that they might dwell in a house built in the pre-Andrew era without hurricane braces. Even more go about their daily business, having done absolutely no preparation at all.

Today, the run on the grocery store bordered on madness. Charcoal, beer, food, and supplies flew off the shelves and filled the carts of shoppers as the clouds began to roll in. Boxes of ponchos were eagerly grabbed at as a steady stream of cars flowed through the parking lot just outside. Bags of ice left the store, coolers were filled to capacity. Rain from Gustav had just started to fall, pickup trucks filling the hardware store parkinglot as residents refilled propane tanks.

But people along the north side of the gulf coast, today, aren't getting ready for a college football game tailgate party as the hoardes of USF fans are doing today. As the major hurricane churns out at sea, having intensified to a category four storm, the computer models HWRF and GFDL twitch and shift by hundreds of miles as they reevaluate eddy currents and the steering forces created by upper level lows. The evacuations began even now, long before the lines will begin to converge. Contraflow will commence. Tampa overcast skies above make the labor day weekend a sleepy, relaxed one. Will the game be rained out?

The stops and starts, the on and off terror of Atlantic conveyor belt continue and will through November.

It is so strange, living on the coast, during hurricane season.