10/10/2024
“In the Eye of the Storm”
By: Larry Woodham
It’s 8:00am on Wednesday morning, October 9, 2024. It’s been raining for several hours, but nothing very unusual. The rain is steady, but little different than normal summer rain. The wind is minimal and soft. I can imagine what it would have been like for my people 100 years ago in this part of central Florida. In those days there were no satellites spinning in the space above their heads with cameras able to read the license plate on their model-t. They would have gone about their daily lives oblivious to the great danger stalking them from the Gulf of Mexico.
When I was a small child, I can remember my grandmother telling me stories about the great and terrible hurricane of 1921. It struck without warning and wiped-out half of Bradenton Beach from the public beach to the south end of the island. In those days, hurricanes had no names. They were referred to as the great storm and the year that it crashed ashore. Sometimes the people on land were fortunate when a steamer or other ship encountered the hurricane out at sea. The ship would radio its coordinates and the direction of the storm. This would allow people to flee to higher ground and lives would be saved.
With all the technology that we have today, we know all about Hurricane Milton that’s churning its way to our coast. It’s hard to grasp the magnitude of winds over 130 miles an hour and rainfall up to a foot. For half of this year, we lived in a terrible drought. All the grass turned brown and small dust devils were common. Just keeping our crops alive was a gargantuan task. All kinds of reasons were given for our extreme weather. Terms like El Nino and La Nino were used quite often. Although farmers accept and appreciate this information, we, mostly, consider these profound changes as Mother Nature working towards a balance.
It’s now 12:00pm on Wednesday, October 9, 2024. The winds have picked up a little and are steadier. The rain is still falling with less breaks between the rain bands. It’s looking more and more like we will be close to the eyewall of Hurricane Milton as it passes across the State of Florida. Still hours away from landfall we have resolved ourselves to our fate. We are not reckless people; we have taken every precaution to be safe.
Our house and outbuildings were built to withstand a category 4 hurricane. Built in 1988, our house was built by a gentleman who had gone to Homestead, Florida after Hurricane Andrew to help rebuild their community. He was so appalled by the destruction that he resolved to build his own home in Manatee County on the highest ground possible (we’re 104 ft. above sea level) and to build it to withstand the winds of a category 4 hurricane. A couple of years ago we were tested by Hurricane Ian. We had two tornados and lost 60% of our vineyard. Forty-five vineyard row posts were snapped like toothpicks, and we were without power for several days. In the country, loss of power is the hardest thing to overcome. With no public utilities, keeping our wells operating is a matter of life or death. Our house and outbuildings survived the winds quite well. A few dents and some damage from falling trees were unavoidable.
It's now 4:00pm on Wednesday, October 9, 2024. The wind and rain have picked up considerably. Currently, the gusts seem to be blowing from the northeast, probably close to tropical storm force winds. The landfall forecasts are still a little uncertain. Predictions range somewhere between Tampa Bay and Ft. Myers, Florida. The only noticeable debris are a few palm fronds blown to the ground from our sable palm trees. Our recent brush with Hurricane Helene cleaned a lot of dead wood from our surrounding woods.
It's now 5:30pm on Wednesday, October 9, 2024. The eyewall of Hurricane Milton is crossing our coastline off Siesta Key. It’s traveling about 17 miles an hour towards the northeast. The eyewall should approach us in Duette within the next couple of hours. The winds are gusting to hurricane force winds. The trees in the woods behind us are twisting like blades of straw. The top of a tall maple tree just crashed to the ground with the latest wind gust. It’s getting quite dark so we can see very little. However, we can hear the howling of the wind and rain as it swirls past our house and beats against the walls and windows. Our power has been lost from Peace River Electric. Fortunately, we had our generator gassed and ready to go. With a couple of pulls of the generator rope, our essential lights, refrigeration and well were back into operation.
It’s now 10:00pm on Wednesday, October 9, 2024. Having come ashore at Siesta Key in Sarasota County, Hurricane Milton headed northeast at about 17 miles an hour. The eyewall has just arrived at our door. The fierce hurricane force winds have ceased for the time being. The silence is eerie compared to the recent howling of the winds. With a sense of adventure and trepidation I ventured out into the darkness with my flashlight. Panning the light from left to right I could see the shadowy outlines of tree limbs and debris everywhere. I could feel the wind starting to return as the eyewall slipped past. Very quickly the growl of the hurricane winds returned, and I returned to the relative safety of the house. Climbing into bed and drifting off to sleep, a feeling of the dread of tomorrow’s sunrise was my last wanning thought.
It's now 7:00am on Thursday, October 10, 2024. Having awakened from a restless sleep, my first task of the morning was to replenish the gas in the generator. Sometime in the night it had run out of fuel. Peace River Electric has not restored our power. Until our utility connects us back to the grid our lone generator is our lifeline. Restoring well water and refrigeration is our foremost concern. On walking the land, the destruction becomes obvious. In addition to the damage from Hurricane Milton’s winds and rain, it appears two tornadoes were spun out by Milton and swirled across our property from east to west. Several trees were broken and crashed into the ground. The tin roof of our potting building was stripped of the tin sheets and strewn everywhere. Our large Vineyard sign was pulled from the ground and spewed out as a tangled mass. Overall, 21 row and fence posts were broken.
As our true story, “In the Eye of the Storm”, ends for you, our rest of the story begins for us. The great work of our restoration begins with the last period of the last sentence. God bless everyone caught in the eye of Hurricane Milton.
The End.
