Well, it seems at the moment that we've survived Gustav. Early reports indicate that we probably had 3-5 feet of water under our house (which is about 8 feet up on stilts), so, perhaps no serious harm done. We'll know more later today when some of our friends still in Bay St. Louis check back in with us. It's been interesting to watch all of the news reports and coverage.

This storm we spent in Grand Bay, Ala., with Heather's folks, and never once lost power. Yesterday was a constant wall-to-wall Gustav story ... today, mostly back to business as usual.

Steve and I are wondering whether his art show this Saturday evening will go on. Should he hang the show? Should I buy the hors d'oeuvres? Will anyone come, or will they all be packing and/or leaving? Should we reschedule it?

We haven't needed to evacuate since Katrina. A few times, we've thought we would need to leave, but fickle weather patterns kept us in place. Not until Gustav have we seriously begun to hold our collective breath and pack our collective belongings.

When I was born, Hurricane Camille had happened three years previously, almost to the day. I grew up hearing mention of Camille from time to time, but not a whole lot. I heard about it when I noticed a stain on my grandparent's paneling (the waterline), when I inquired about steps leading to nowhere (former front stoops) and whenever a storm was heading this way (how would it compare to Camille?; how much water there was in Camille). My aunt Theresa composed the dedication for a sign erected in Waveland to commemorate the 1969 storm. Beyond that, life went on. Camille was just part of local history.

As so often happens, I grew a bit older and gained a more personal perspective of the local timeline. Now three years have passed since Katrina, and it remains very much a part of coastal consciousness. I am amazed, though, to hear newcomers say things like, "Oh, yes, I heard stories about that storm" as if it's a historic event. Of course, it is an historic event. I know that. But it doesn't seem that way, because we are still feeling its effects.

Before the storm, we counted ourselves lucky to live on Mollere Drive, known far and wide as the prettiest street in Waveland, Miss. My husband had retired from a D.C. job and we moved here in 2000. We had just finished a five year renovation of our entire home and thought everything perfect. We had added a covered patio complete with a hot tub and John finally had the workshop he had longed for. Then Hurricane Katrina hit and we lost everything.

This year the trees have made a comeback.

For the past several years, lots of things have looked like a haunted house here on the coast. Dead, twisted trees, bare branches, bark all painted in silvery grays. But this year the vegetation looks thicker and lusher.

It took me a while to notice. I spent most of the summer trying to figure out why our above-ground pool was staying so cold. (Poor Heather could hardly stand to get in it!) Then I realized that all of the trees on the lot next door had leaves on them, and the sun wasn't hitting the pool until about noon. The trees were so green that even a colorblind person like me could tell.

Life is a funny thing, and sometimes something can stay bottled up inside for years before bursting back out in a showy display.

My life has been that way lately.

When I was asked to write this diary for the third anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, I took the time to go back and read my other diaries through the first two years. I was amazed at what has been accomplished since then.

Of the dozens of building contractors punished by the state of Mississippi for preying on victims of Hurricane Katrina, one stands out from the crowd of mostly small-time, fly-by-night operators: Call Henry, a Florida-based firm with hundreds of employees that each year earns tens of millions of dollars from contracts with the Department of Defense, NASA and the Environmental Protection Agency.

The company boasts on its Web site about its rosy prospects for new federal business. But at the same time, it has closed up shop in the hurricane zone and is ignoring customers there who say that their homes are falling apart after Call Henry repaired or rebuilt them. The state Attorney General's Office is considering launching a criminal investigation against the firm. And the company is appealing a $10,000 fine that the Mississippi State Board of Contractors levied after finding that Call Henry exhibited "gross negligence or misconduct" in its contracting business.

"They shafted people right and left," said a sobbing Mary Bobbitt of Waveland, Miss., who hired Call Henry to fix her three-bedroom, one-bath ranch-style home after it was inundated by Katrina's deadly flood tide. "They came in from Florida thinking they could make a whole bunch of money and then they left. They just left us."

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Donna Armstrong waves to President Bush's motorcade Wednesday in Bay St. Louis. Armstrong, who traveled over ten miles from Diamondhead to catch a glimpse of the president, said she was "tickled" by the sight. Image: J. Brecher / MSNBC.com

BAY ST. LOUIS, Miss. – President Bush's two-year anniversary visit to Katrina's Ground Zero may have been a carefully scripted photo opportunity designed to keep all but a hand-picked few far away from the nation's chief executive, but that didn't stop one of his biggest local fans from giving up a chunk of her day to catch a glimpse of her hero.

"How can people criticize him?" demanded Donna Armstrong of Diamondhead as she stood outside the church compound where Bush was meeting with local mayors and business leaders.

WAVELAND, Miss. – In the place they consider heaven on Earth, Hancock County residents gathered in the hellish heat Wednesday morning to mark the two-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.

"It is certainly a joy right now to be worried about sweating and not swimming," joked Brian McDonald, director of the Mississippi Office for Rebuilding and Renewal. Swimming – for their lives – was precisely what many of the 100 or so citizens who attended the ceremony at the beachfront Veterans' Memorial in Waveland were doing at that moment in 2005 as Katrina's flood surge rolled ashore.