IF the Grinch ever was a teenager, then the spindly plants dotting the lower Southeast in late June were the whiskers on his grim chin. He'd dried up the promise of gilded prices at Christmas with drought. Washed them across the prairie in floods. Spun them on tornadic activity across state after state. And hurricane season had only just begun. As federal officials flew around the country touring the wreckage from disaster heaped on disaster, they promised help and support.
展开▼