Subtropical Storm Beryl swirls toward southeast coast

Sat, 26 May 2012 15:29:58 -0700 MIAMI (Reuters) – Subtropical Storm Beryl moved slowly toward the U.S. southeastern coast on Saturday, threatening heavy rains and dangerous surf for Memorial Day weekend beachgoers in northern Florida, Georgia and South Carolina. Beryl was centered about 220 miles east-southeast of Charleston, South Carolina, carrying maximum sustained winds of 45 mph. It was moving southwest, with tropical …

Subtropical storm Beryl may reach land by Memorial Day

Sat, 26 May 2012 12:54:06 -0700 Subtropical storm Beryl is about to rain on the Southeast's Memorial Day parade.,0,3697308.story?track=rss

Beryl to bring rain, winds to southeast U.S. coast

Sat, 26 May 2012 18:10:33 -0700 Tropical storm warnings were in effect for the entire Georgia coastline, as well as parts of Florida and South Carolina

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Tropical Storm Beryl forms | Watts Up With That?


No impact from Beryl in Charlotte until Monday | CharlotteObserver …

The second tropical storm of the season formed Friday night — a week before the season officially begins — but meteorologists have good news for people planning to attend Food Lion Speed Street, the NASCAR races at …

Beachgoers in Southeast brace for Beryl | National News – WAPT …

It has been a picture perfect start to the Memorial Day weekend for beachgoers basking in sunny skies from northeastern Florida to South Carolina — but it won't last long. They can thank subtropical storm Beryl, which is threatening to dump …

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4 Responses to Beryl

  • Samantha says:

    Please Answer This Permutations Question Anyone? Beryl has 12 pegs. 2 blue, 2 orange, 2 yellow, 2 black, 2 green, 2 red. Calculate how many different arrangements of colored pegs Beryl can make in 4 holes using
    (a) 4 different colors
    (b) 3 different colors.
    (c) any of her 12 pegs.

    Please explain too how you calculated your answer! Thank you so much!

  • Anonymous says:

    Will Someone Critique The Beginning Of My Short Story? Thick, hot winds poured through my screened-in window, leaving a layer of the gray salty Atlantic Ocean across my bed sheets. At night the sound of the waves were their strongest, along with the click of my father’s keyboard. We couldn’t sleep in the humid South Carolina nights, my father and I. I crept from my room to watch him. Peering through the dark kitchen, I could discern his dimly lit lamp in the corner, lighting the features of his aging face and limp posture. He kept one hand gnarled through dark graying hair and the other infinitely clicking the keyboard, his fingers like a knotted limb on an ancient tree.

    “Turn around,” I whispered. Never daring to raise my voice, I knew that would deter him from his bubble of biology and science. His newest book concentrated on his collection of minerals. My father was not himself when writing. Losing himself in science and nature, he grew in intelligence and obsession. I was sixteen and I had never felt more distant. “Turn around,” I whispered again, in vain.

    With light steps I padded through the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Harsh fluorescent light poured across the room and the icemaker clanked off the walls. Still, he did not stir. I poured myself a glass of iced tea, and closing the fridge, resolved to drink it in darkness.

    Even in only the dim light of his lamp, his mineral assortment glimmered in the opposite corner of the room. From my chair in the kitchen I could identify rose quartz, beryl, aquamarine, agate, and his prize: peridot. “Mineral of forgiveness,” he once said. “Anger and resentment will subside and new life, new ideas form.”

    “You should get some sleep,” I offered, speaking louder this time. Shifting a hand through his mass of hair, he only grunted in response. Stacked neatly around him, his books were piled according to importance, his favorite directly at his side. Standing against the fridge at a distance, I felt an unwanted and uninvited presence.

    “I won’t bother you,” I said in a muffled voice. For a moment I lingered in the kitchen, hoping for his attention, yet with no response I finally turned away.

    Outside my bedroom on the beaches of Edisto Island, laughter rose above the crashing waves and pierced my nerves. Happiness seemed an eccentricity; I bathed in my solitude nursing a private grudge. I waited in silence, sitting on my bed eyeing the thin moon through my large window. It was sharp, hanging from the sky as a threat. “What should I do?” I whispered to the moon. As if intending to provoke me, it gave no response but continued to glare like a sharp saw.

    It wasn’t until morning that his typing silenced. The dawn lit up my room with knifelike rays of light. Staring at the singed sky through my screen window, I heard his door shut. I slid from my bed and opened the door slowly to avoid a creaking noise. With small, quick steps I strode through the kitchen to his mineral collection.

    Gazing down at them, they glinted an array of colors that bounced off the walls of the kitchen, their reflections lighting our home with his magic. I hated his magic. I reached for the peridot. Through its lime green translucency I could see the lines of my hand. I closed my eyes and grinned a smile with little happiness, having a private joke.

    • Curator says:

      First paragraph, last sentence: his fingers like a the knotted limbs…

      Fingers are plural so the simile should be as well.

      Eighth paragraph, beginning: his typing ceased.

      Silenced sounds awkward unless you say something like: It wasn’t until morning that the keys were silenced.

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