It is 2.41 p.m on Friday, the day that Hurricane Earl is (was?) supposed to visit us. So far, nothing but a bank of grey sky, a couple of heavy, hard, warm rain showers (enough to flash-puddle Park Drive), a little breeze, and what must be massive breakers on Smith Point sands (can see the white spray plumes from there, rising way into the sky).
The egrets know something is going on. They have decided that the best place to be is upstairs.
The weather here has been nothing special (so far). So how do they know what is just over the horizon?
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