I still remember the perfect blue sky. I marvelled at it driving into work that morning eight years ago, and looked up at it through the day at The Roanoke Times building where I was doing a stint as an interim metro editor. A cold front had pushed through the previous day, and a cool, dry Canadian air mass covered most of the United States. It was a perfect day ... except it wasn't. Not after about 9 a.m.
The weather didn't really matter at all that day ... except it did. I've long wondered how much the perfect weather played into the terrorists' choice of Sept. 11 for their attack on New York and Washington in 2001. There were no atmospheric disturbances at all to complicate their mission to fly hijacked planes into buildings. Their targets were in perfect view, easily seen in the crisp visiblity.
And the weather mattered a lot when it came to the national "ground stop" order to land thousands of planes after the attacks that morning. Not only were there no major storm systems, but almost no inclement weather of any kind anywhere in the U.S. Imagine how much more difficult the already gargantuan task of landing every airplane in U.S. airspace would have been with major hubs affected by heavy rain or wind or thunderstorms.
It's always that flawless and cloudless sky I come back to. Sept. 11, 2001, was the first of a long string of perfect weather days, progressively cooler into the weekend after 9/11, an early taste of fall. It was a sky not only unmarred by clouds, but unscarred by jet contrails -- except for military flights -- for a few days after 9/11.
And it was that blue sky I lost myself in many weeks that turbulent autumn as I hiked mountain trails during a dry fall with golden leaves. The world had gone mad, but serenity and sanity could still be found.