We’ve spent much of this past summer wanting rain, worrying about it, or wondering at its power. As we faced each event - our grandson’s outdoor wedding, Jim’s birthday cruise, and a late-season nor’easter - questions loomed: too little, too much, or not at all?
No one wanted rain in Connecticut on August 15th. Tent or no tent? As plans unfolded for their wedding outside in a lovely wooded setting, we prayed, danced counterclockwise, chanted, and shook rattles to the sun. While it rained on the 14th and the 16th, for the entire stretch of the wedding day we enjoyed a clear blue cloudless sky and rain-free, starry night.
We had the opposite problem for the river cruise down the Rhine. Drought! Two weeks before we were to depart for Zurich, we received a letter notifying us that water levels in the river would require changes that would alter the itinerary. We met lovely people, ate great food, rode bikes past fields and windmills. However, one of the signature experiences of the journey—the daytime passage through the castle-lined Rhine—got replaced by motor-coach travel. Is viewing castles from a boat’s deck measurably different from watching out a bus window? I’ll always wonder. On the last day of our journey, it poured and the hotel sent me stateside with a spiffy new umbrella.
Which I sorely needed. On our first weekend back, a nor’easter blew in. Although winds would eventually blew as fast as 70 mph, on Friday the tall pines swayed like old ladies dancing against the sky. It didn’t rain much, either. Saturday morning I wondered about all the big whoop and set out with my new umbrella to enjoy the company of an Irish mist. After lunch my eyes widened as the steady pour and roaring wind set in. We met the pounding rain with prayers we’d be spared a power outage and breathed a sigh of relief when the storm let up on Sunday. Monday we went to the beach at Ellisville and found the shoreline swallowed whole. Summer’s landmark rocks submerged deep beneath the surf.
Yesterday, the sky remained overcast, but with the rains behind us, I took a walk down the road to a neighboring pond. There are reportedly 365 glacial lakes here in Plymouth, and at this time of year many of them have shrunk in size. As I picked my way around its pebbly shoreline, a slight splish startled and sent me peering into the water. These were not the usual water striders that skate across pond water on long delicate legs. I looked closer and recoiled. Ick, tiny black pillbugs, it seemed, darting to and fro. I used my camera to zoom in for a closer look and asked AI for an identification. Get your phone closer to the water and photograph a few of the larger ones— show me a side profile. Crouch down to get a better shot? I’m 79, I muttered, but dutifully lowered myself closer towards the water. AI rewarded me. Oh! This is the photograph we needed— These are bullfrog tadpoles! Because the ponds have gotten lower over our forty-odd years of coming here, I worry about the vitality of them. Baby bullfrogs! I stared into the shallow water snapping picture after picture of them - like any proud mother.
This morning as I washed my face, I stopped mid-splash. Water. Out in the kitchen, as I turned the faucet to make tea, I thought again, Water. My eyes scan the kitchen. Coffee maker, soap suds. The ice-maker, dishwasher, washing machine. All this watery stuff sets me scrambling for dry land, and when I retreat to the couch, I’m facing the lake. Today it’s a skim of glass reflecting trees, houses, sky. I scoot up closer to the window to see more.
While running afternoon errands, raindrops become splashes on my windshield, and me, I just keep driving.
…my spiffy new umbrella
You lucky duck! Used to be here in Palmville, residents knew better than to even wistfully say, "Wish it would rain," because, as everyone, even God and all his friends, knew that all too often it would do just that but wouldn't know when to stop. In fact, as the local historians suggested, when the first European immigrants came here they marveled at the 'Garden of Eden,' that aptly described this locale; its lush grasses, and timber & prairie vistas, rivers, and lakes. Even Mikinaak Creek ran north all over the place mingling its abundant waters with the anaakanashk (ni a reed, a rush) reed river, to its east..
ReplyDeleteI measure Palmville's monthly precip totals in a 4-inch cylinder mounted on the edge of the creek, although I've suggested the township have two 'samplers' as it varies as much as 8-inches (in one reading last year, four miles south of us) across our 36-square miles. This year, beginning May 17th, my May total was .95 inch. June was 4.13. Didn't copy July's but can be sure the description of 'T', for trace, would be accurate. August's was a whole 2.59 inches, and September a roaring 4.02 inches. Anticipating a wet October, I've proactively sought a good source of sandbags ...and got a new well drilled 75-feet higher on the creek bank to avoid the old one flooding out in a deluge that, I just know will happen any day given the random floods across the country ... now that Jackie wishes for rain everyday, you whiner! I'll even bet you keep your rain boots and umbrella right by the door.
ReplyDeleteThank you teapoetry (and WannaskaWriter) for providing me an opportunity to take a stroll down the history of rain lane: The earth got all its water a mere 40 million years after the earth formed. But it didn't fall as rain. It was all locked up in the oceans. A few million years later, the bacteria came along and eventually broke down hydrogen and oxygen (H2O) and rain got its start. It took another billion years or so for bacteria to invent sex which is how we got our start. Really, dad. We evolved as children of the rain. Without rain, we would still be living in the ocean, which wouldn't be such a bad thing.
I feel for teapoetry having to view the castles from a bus. In the TV ads for the river cruise, passengers are pictured sitting around a table sipping wine with their new-found friends as their vessel cruises past the castles. Did the cruise company at least provide a nice Gewűrztraminer as you rode past the castles?
Truth is, everything else about the cruise was terrific. And yes, the wines were superb and they selected wines from the areas through which we were traveling. We did have other lovely cruising time before we got to the mid Rhine.
DeleteThanks for the invitation to look at rain in a different way. I am dancing in the rain at my Next opportunity
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