Apparent Doorways

The Fifth of July. Almost the working definition of "anticlimax." The day after the big celebration, when the fireworks and cookouts are over and all that remains are ashes, spent casings, trash, and the acrid smell of gunpowder still lingers in the air. 

Hurricane Beryl, after crossing over the Leeward Islands of Grenada and St. Vincent & the Grenadines, traveled west-northwest across the Caribbean, passing just south of Jamaica and the Caymans. It has made landfall on the Yucatan Peninsula, where it resides right now. 

The storm is expected to regain strength as it crosses the Yucatan and emerges over the Gulf of Mexico.  It is expected to make landfall on the southernmost tip of Texas and then travel north toward Austin and then northeast toward College Station, because nobody, not even the Gods of Weather, like Texas A&M. 

It's unclear how much strength the storm will have after that or where it will go next. My fatalistic assumption is that it will keep going northeast and beeline right for Atlanta, Georgia, where it will drop many, many inches of rain and large trees right onto my house. 

Of course, I could be wrong.