NOAA's ARK

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Off the road, in the woods, out of sight, on the high ground of a Low Country barrier island, the GT comes upon the "LIL' BOUNTY". This is not an abandoned drug smuggling vessel, it's not even abandoned. The "LIL' BOUNTY" is being held in abeyance for future use. It waits not for a Godot, but a manifest more likely to show, a call more likely to come.

Most local TV weather actors can barely wait for the June 1 drama season to begin. They champ at the bit like eager players awaiting the opening ceremony for Spoleto, restive in their dressing rooms, sweating their makeup runny. One of the local bottom feeding beacons prematurely broke water and interrupted the Masters Golf Tournament, THE MASTERS, to stop lowcountry hearts with a chilling report that yet another seasonal thunderstorm, a THUNDERSTORM, not a nuclear attack, was in the offing.

The Weather Channel is frothing at the mic to unleash their troupe of performers upon the fright stage. They have large back up fans stationed on selected beaches in case the actual winds disappoint the on site reporting. Local ( certified ) meteorologists are practicing stern faces before mirrors, but that fellow with the big hair on the WC is practicing his smile which broadens the closer a hurricane comes to any land mass, the stronger it blows.

Well, the Bounty has no window to such dramatics. It sits patiently on station waiting for the rising waters which won't be far behind the decamping island folk. Once afloat the BOUNTY will become NOAA's Ark.

They also serve who only sit and wait.