Water heading toward the house
The fire department to the rescue
Let's see: there were the spring floods wiping out my willows, then Irene just two weeks ago throwing wind and rain around the area, and then Wednesday when Lee's rain blew in, and it rained, and it rained, and it rained. The county closed the roads early on Wednesday so my next door neighbor and I hunkered down in her house. We watched the water overflow the banks and begin to creep up on our houses. Then it got dark, and we had no idea how high the water was. We knew our cellars were filling up. By eight Wednesday night, I had over three feet. She and I listened to the continuous rain and hoped the flood wouldn't reach the houses, and we'd have to be evacuated by boat. She has two kids, two dogs and one cat. I have my two cats. There were no shelters we could reach because of roads closed and bridges out. I didn't sleep.
By morning the water had stopped rising. It had come up to my garden, swung around the pine tree in the back yard and flooded my other neighbor's field on the right of my yard. Finally, the water began to recede. It was time to call in the fire department to pump me out. They did, Twice. And although my furnace was under water, once dried out, it ran. How lucky can I be?
I am grateful for not having experienced the devastation others have. Entire towns have been wiped out, roads and bridges down, houses toppled and swept downstream. Most of what I experienced was fear not knowing how high that water was Wednesday night. I admit I was terrified. And then there's my wet, moldy cellar. I left that for Glenn to empty and clean when he rides in here sometime the end of this week. Oh, right, you didn't know? He missed all of this because he was still on his motorcycle journey.
Much as I like to move beyond these events, this one will have a lasting impact. Not only did the flood remove the five to ten feet of bank we'd rescued after the spring high waters, yesterday when I went out to determine if it was still too wet to mow, I noticed a series of cracks in the ground developing. These run parallel to the stream about ten feet from the bank's edge. They are deepening, a sign the bank will soon break away.
Have a look:
I guess I won't mow.