2022, Uncategorized, Weather

A Perfect Storm

16 Comments

Last Monday around suppertime we had a perfect Northern Plains storm. Usually our storms come after it is dark, and the wind blows things over and you hope it doesn’t hail.

This storm was perfect. There was very little wind. The sky clouded up, the clouds billowing, and you could see the lightening strikes and hear the thunder approach miles away from the west. The thunder became gradually louder as it neared town. It took a good 30 minutes to get to us, and then there were loud booms and lightening all around and over us, but still no wind. Then the rain started, and we got .20.

The storm left town just as it came, traveling east with gradually diminishing flashes and booms. Then it was silent. It was perfect. We appreciated the rain.

When have you been in a perfect storm? Use any meaning of the phrase you would like.

16 thoughts on “A Perfect Storm”

  1. A few weeks ago in the early morning a gentle rainstorm came through – a little thunder maybe, but I was stumbling back to bed after a “night stop” and decided to crawl in with Husband (we usually sleep separate). Fell back asleep curled up, listening to the rain for an hour or so, and it was delicious.

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  2. I was cycling across Florida. I think this was in February. I usually tent camp but at one little campground they offered yurts. With air conditioning. So we rented one of those for the night. It had a clear dome skylight. That night a very large storm passed through. Laying in bed while watching the lightning was awesome! Maybe it was partly due to being so filled with gratitude that we were not in our tiny tent but watching that storm from bed was just amazing. Acrossthemapwithmatt.com

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  3. During a solo canoe trip in the BWCAW, I got caught in the 2012 deluge in NE Minnesota. It was a perfect storm if perfect means the maximum amount of rain in the minimum amount of time.

    I was about halfway through my one-week trip when the big rain came. I’d been paddling west to my next campsite but had to stop when the lightning came. That’s when the skies opened up big time. My impression was that of a gigantic open-air shower with an elephant-sized showerhead being used. (Think the Seinfeld episode where Kramer buys the big honking showerhead because of the low water pressure in his building.)

    It was amazingly calm despite the noise because there was zero wind. As I stood on the shore of a lake waiting for the lightning to stop, I started to get chilled under my raingear because I’d been sweating during the portages that day. I think I waited for a solid hour for the storm to pass. The prospect of starting a fire later that day was rapidly approaching zero even if the rain stopped because it had been very rainy much of the previous week and dry firewood was nonexistent.

    Fortunately, I was at a place where I could change my mind, go in a different direction, and get out of the wilderness that day. Common sense prevailed, and I spent the night at the AmericInn in Tofte.

    I didn’t think much of the amount of rain that had fallen on me until I returned to civilization. I dropped my rental canoe at the outfitter, who told me the phone lines were down from Grand Portage to Duluth, sections of Highway 61 were washed out, and Duluth had flooded! Duluth??? I didn’t quite understand what he meant until I drove through there and saw all the downhill streets that had been washed out by torrential rain.

    I think the official total was 12 inches in 24 hours, but that was on top of an already soggy area, so the effect was much worse. Even I-35 south of Cloquet had flooded so badly that they had to detour traffic around the submerged area. The runoff from the North Shore rivers into Lake Superior was so massive, that you could see brown silt in the clear water from a satellite. The silt went out a mile or more from shore in most places.

    Tried to post a few photos of the aftermath but I can’t figure out how to do it. Sorry.

    Chris in Owatonna

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    2. Funny I think of that ad the spoiler alert for The Titanic. That’s why I’ve never seen it. I know how it ends.

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  5. Rise and Shine, Baboons,

    I would love a perfect storm right now that would be two days of gentle, soaking rain equaling 3 inches. I know I have seen those in the past. It is a gardener’s fantasy during a very dry, hot year.

    Right now I am going out to the garden to stake up the sunflowers which are not tolerating this constant wind well. Several of them have broken off right at the height of the fence that supports them. Then I need to trim up the tomatoes and put newspaper under them to mulch. We have had two ripe tomatoes half eaten by the local squirrels. The tomatoes were beauties, too. I am still in a huff.

    I do have a perfect storm personal disaster story, but I have told it before so I will pass on that.

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    1. I would wager that at least half of the baboons would like to be reminded of your personal storm personal disaster, Jacque, and that the other half won’t remember having read it in the first place. I’m not saying which half I’m in.

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      1. Agreed. Unfortunately the list goes on and on, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight to the misery we’re in for. Remaining hopeful about the US in particular, and the world in general, takes a concerted effort these days.

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  7. The term perfect storm seems to have contradictory meanings, none of which make much sense to me. I have never liked the expression.

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