It seems the moments have returned when a passing hurricane means waves and a breeze instead of stocking up on plywood, batteries, and beer. Waiting for the watchful eye to pass and look on towards our northern neighbors, so we can settle the score with our newly formed sandbars. I remember the days of surfing drifts from Snack Jack’s to the pier and then flagging down a ride to do it again, and again, and again. For us east coaster’s hurricane season is the salt of the earth, dishing out juicy barrels and hot butter smacking lips. I prefer this flavor to Mother Nature’s cayenne temper eliciting evacuations and canned food storages. I can only hope to be able to partake in the feast…cheers!