Well, Hurricane Erin has come and gone. Or, rather, it’s gone and it was never really here to begin with.
I’m not unhappy about that at all. Sometimes, anticlimactic is good.
It’s my first hurricane season as an official resident of Virginia Beach, and though I’m not too worried generally, I admit I was concerned about and disconcerted by all the watches and warnings that accompanied Erin’s not-landfall here. As a lifelong mountain critter – if not in body than certainly in spirit – I find the ocean intimidating. Coastal storms were something that, growing up, we actually talked about pretty often. You know, as in: “Gee, sure glad and grateful we aren’t dealing with that.”
And now here I am, living very close to the big water, right on the coast. It’s a funny old life.
At any rate, I am quite grateful that the most we saw of Erin in our neck of the woods – er, our stretch of the sand – was just a little bit of a breeze, some higher than usual high tides, and rough waves.
The surfers had a great time. Waves in Virginia Beach are normally pretty calm, so these were fun to watch. From a distance.
I know the Outer Banks in North Carolina dealt with more, and I’ve heard Norfolk had some flooding. But as storms go, we got lucky. And I’m hoping we stay lucky through this season. Because as much as I love new experiences, I definitely don’t have “See a hurricane up close and personal” on my 2025 bingo card.













