The Urban Chaos Cottage

Ah, June in Miami — where the skies are blue until they’re not, your garden thinks it lives in the Everglades, and every afternoon feels like Mother Nature just finished her cafecito and decided it’s time to absolutely lose it. 

Welcome to hurricane season (and no, I don’t mean the college football team). Or as we call it around here: The Backyard Lagoon Era. 

Every morning starts the same: sunshine, birds chirping, the smell of fresh Cuban coffee wafting rough the air as I get ready to check the garden, feed the pups, and get to work.  

The backyard homestead looks great, the herbs are perky, the tomato plant is thriving, and even the mango tree seems smug with its leafy bounty. 

Then comes 2:57 PM 

You smell it before you see it, yes, smell it — the air gets weirdly thick with the scent of rain, the wind starts practicing for its big moment, and the sky transforms from a “postcard-worthy” beach day to “ominous vacation brochure.” By 3:10 PM, the rain arrives like it’s getting paid by the gallon. 

Enter: The Backyard Pool. 

What was once my Astroturf sanctuary (and before you ask, no, not even weeds grew in the “yard”, and I’d rather not have the entire Sahara Desert of Miami in my house) is now Miami’s newest waterfront property. The raised garden? Not very raised. The rosemary bush is auditioning to become a seaweed species, my poor bell peppers are floating like little buoys, and the mulch? We don’t talk about the mulch anymore. 

Meanwhile, he dogs — absolute agents off chaos — see the daily deluge as their personal splash park. They go full Jurassic Park, galloping through the puddles, slipping sliding, and occasionally attempting synchronized swimming routines in what used to be my well-drained astroturf lawn. If there was an Olympic event for “Backyard Puddle Freestyle,” they’d take the gold. 

 I, of course, stand at the door like the reluctant park ranger, armed with towels, treats, and eternal questions: “Why did I just clean the house again?” 

But let’s be real — this is life in Miami. It’s tropical, it’s dramatic, and it comes with free daily power washing of your entire property, whether you like it or not. The plants either adapt or drown, the dogs either swim or dig new drainage channels (aka mud pits), the house will never be truly clean, and I’ve accepted that waterproof Crocs are basically farm equipment at this point. 

And hey, on the bright side: 

• The plants are watered even if I forget. 

• The humidity keeps my skin glowing. (Though that might just be the sweat.) 

• The mosquitos are… well, thriving (we don’t talk about them either). 

• And every afternoon comes with a front-row seat to nature’s water show — complete with dramatic lightning, wild winds, and the occasional flying lawn chair. 

So here’s to hurricane season, my fellow homesteaders: where we all become amateur meteorologists, backyard engineers, and part-time dog lifeguards. Stay dry (or don’t), keep your emergency cafecito stocked, and may your banana trees bend but never break, which reminds me, I need to get a larger container for mine. 

And next time on Hurricane Season… “How to prep like a Floridian!”