Darkness fell as the storm hit Florida’s Gulf Coast, bringing deadly tornadoes and heavy flooding. Millions lost power, and many communities were left in ruins.
Hurricane Milton, a strong Category 3 storm, made landfall near Siesta Key in Sarasota County, Florida, on October 9, around 8:30 in the evening.
With winds over 120 miles per hour and heavy rain, the hurricane caused major damage. More than 1.1 million homes and businesses lost power, especially in Sarasota, Manatee, and Hardee counties.
The Florida Division of Emergency Management (FDEM) posted on Facebook, urging people to stay inside and remain alert.
As the hurricane approached, tornadoes tore through St. Lucie County, causing severe damage and deaths. Sheriff Keith Pearson confirmed “multiple fatalities” in a senior community near Fort Pierce.
The exact number of deaths is still unknown as rescue teams search for survivors. “They are listening for life,” Pearson said, describing efforts to find people in the wreckage.
St. Lucie County has suffered massive destruction. County spokesman Erick Gill said, “Dozens of homes have been damaged, some with catastrophic damage.”
Statewide, about 125 homes were destroyed, mostly in senior mobile home communities, according to FDEM Director Kevin Guthrie. Emergency workers are working nonstop to help those affected.
Governor Ron DeSantis said the storm caused 116 tornado warnings across the state, with 19 tornadoes confirmed. The damage from Hurricane Milton is widespread.
In St. Petersburg, a rare rainfall event occurred, with over nine inches of rain in just three hours. This was more rain than the city usually gets in three months.
An advisory on October 10 from the National Weather Service warned of flash floods in parts of west-central Florida. Strong winds also continued to hit the east coast.
By 1:00 a.m. Eastern Time, St. Petersburg had winds of 48 mph, with gusts up to 79 mph. Orlando recorded winds of 46 mph, with gusts of 74 mph, and Cape Canaveral had winds of 52 mph, with gusts up to 67 mph.
I Came Home from Vacation to Find a Huge Hole Dug in My Backyard – I Wanted to Call the Cops until I Saw What Was at the Bottom
When I cut short our vacation due to Karen falling ill, the last thing I expected was to find a massive hole in our backyard upon returning home. Initially alarmed, I hesitated when I spotted a shovel inside, leading me into an unexpected adventure involving buried treasure, newfound friendship, and lessons in life’s true values.
Karen and I rushed back from the beach early after she fell ill. Exhausted but wary, I decided to check the house’s perimeter before settling in. That’s when I stumbled upon the gaping pit in our lawn.
“What’s this?” I muttered, approaching cautiously.
At the bottom, amid scattered debris, lay a shovel. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I considered the possibility that the digger might return, knowing we were supposed to be away.
Turning to Karen, who looked unwell, I suggested keeping the car hidden in the garage to maintain the appearance of absence.
As night descended, I kept vigil by a window, watching and waiting. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a shadow vaulting over our fence.
Heart pounding, I ventured out with my phone ready to call the authorities. Approaching the pit, I heard the clink of metal on earth.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, shining my phone’s light into the hole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure looked up, squinting. My jaw dropped—it was George, the previous owner of our house.
“Frank?” he stammered, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I retorted. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night?”
George climbed out, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t involve the police.”
Arms folded, I demanded an explanation.
“My grandfather owned this place,” George began, “and I recently discovered he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“You broke into my yard to hunt for treasure?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I know how it sounds,” George pleaded, “but it’s true. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find.”
Despite my better judgment, I agreed. Over hours of digging, we shared stories, George revealing his hardships—a lost job and his wife’s illness. His hope for this treasure to change their lives touched me.
As dawn approached, our optimism dwindled with each shovel of dirt revealing nothing but rocks and roots.
“I was so sure…” George’s disappointment was palpable.
Offering a ride home, we filled the pit and drove to his house, where his wife, Margaret, greeted us anxiously.
“George! Where have you been?” Margaret exclaimed, eyeing me curiously.
Explaining the situation, George’s dream of buried treasure was deflated by Margaret’s reality check.
“My grandfather’s tales were just that—stories,” she gently reminded him.
Apologizing, George and Margaret offered to repair our yard. I declined, suggesting they join us for dinner instead.
Driving home, I shared the night’s escapade with Karen, who teased me about my unusual night with a stranger. Reflecting on our conversation, I proposed inviting George and Margaret for dinner—an unexpected outcome from a night of digging for imaginary treasure.
As I assessed the yard in daylight, I realized life’s treasures aren’t always what we seek but the connections we forge along the way.
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