June 1 is the official start of the Atlantic hurricane season. It goes until the end of November.
It’s been twelve years since we’ve had a direct hit in Miami-Dade County; Katrina tromped through here in August 2005 before turning its sights on New Orleans, and in late October of that year we had Wilma. In both cases I made it through relatively unscathed (can’t say the same for the kumquat tree in the back yard of the house I was in at the time), but each year brings the possibility of another hit. Just because it’s been a while since we’ve had a storm doesn’t mean it can’t happen again. So I’m going to be prepared (although I don’t have an Aunt Linda in New Jersey to use as my contact).
I can’t think of a place in the country where there isn’t some indigenous form of bad weather or natural disaster lurking: tornadoes in the Midwest, earthquakes and wildfires in California and the West Coast, ice storms and blizzards in the Northeast, dust storms in the desert. At least with a hurricane we get a little warning.