With the 2022 hurricane season under our belt, I am putting Florida Weather Watch on the shelf, at least for the time being. It’s a blog that has been baked into my daily routine starting in 2009, when I launched Weather Matters for the Palm Beach Daily News.
As a journalist, I’ve covered a lot of different beats, focusing primarily on health care. Weather was an interesting challenge, having grown up in a Midwestern climate that had two basic kinds of weather: summer, and misery mode.
A lot of people think Florida doesn’t have seasons, just one “endless summer” with a few temperature and humidity dips in the winter. Or two seasons — tourist and off-season.
Both of these viewpoints are incorrect. Not only does Florida have four seasons, but the state is composed of a series of complex micro-climates that support different types of weather, gardens and landscaping.
A garden on the southeastern coast, for example, is going to look different from one in central Florida and especially the panhandle. The Keys are in a categroy all their own, a true tropical climate even though the islands don’t quite poke below the Tropic of Cancer, just north of Cuba.
We are heading into the winter season now and for many people, this is what it’s all about. The low humidity, generally dry days in the 70s and cool nights in the 50s in central Florida, 60s in the south. I think they relish it because this is closest to what many have enjoyed “back home” in the summer.
My favorite time of the year, though, is February through May. February is the beginning of our real spring in the southern and central peniinsula, when many plants start budding out anew. Citrus trees bloom, and some of my best road trips over the past decades have been driving from West Palm to the University of Florida in Gainesville for the first Gators baseball game on back highways, rolling the car windows down so I can be enveloped by the fragrance.
Spring in Florida is accompanied by a gradual warm-up. Because we’re surrounded by water the change from winter to spring is slow and subtle, and if you’re on the coast you can get a fresh breeze all the way into June even though the sun is hot.
Compare this to other climates at the mercy of continental cold fronts or warm fronts that give you weather in the 30s one day, the 80s the next, and 40s the next. Our local meteorolgist used to call spring fronts pneumonia fronts.
Sure, hurricane season is a hair in the Florida climate soup. But there are really only three months to worry about — August, September and October. Florida was hit by Category 1 Nicole this November, but that was an anomaly, and not likely to become a fixture of our fall weather patterns.
And how do you prepare for an Ian, an Irma, or an Andrew? You button up the best you can, pay close attention to what the local officials and the National Hurricane Center are telling you, and cross your fingers. You pays your money and takes your chances.
The biggest problem with hurricanes is people assume it probably won’t be as bad as forecasters/ media/ pubic officials say. Because often times that’s the case … but not always. If you continually underestimate, the next time a real one is on top of you it will be too late to do anything about it.
You’d be better off to over-prepare for 20 “dud” hurricanes than to be caught once off-guard, having taken it too lightly.
What to do about summer? It can be an uncomfortable time of the year from Key West all the way up to Pensacola, but it has its own charms. Think of lighter traffic, more elbow room at bars and restaurants, and mango season.
Sometimes it’s tough to stay hyrdated if you like to excercise outside in the summer, but think of coming home after a long bike ride and pulling a cold, freshly ripe mango out of the fridge and tearing through it over the kitchen sink.
I guess that’s something you’ll never see in the tourist brochures but it’s one of our many sub-tropical summer delights, along with plunging into pleasantly cool ocean surf during a hot day at the beach.
Speaking of which, maybe I’ll see you there.