deluge

Deluge – Day 971

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Raining into the pit – Photo: L. Weikel

Deluge

The disparities in our climate conditions across our country are growing every day. I can’t believe the west is expected to be trapped under yet another ‘heat dome’ this weekend. Of course, as oppressive and debilitating as those temperatures are, they’re made even worse by the lack of water. And yet here we are in Pennsylvania experiencing major rains and even a deluge last night.

Which comes first? The drought or the hellish temperatures? I don’t know – but I do know it seems like the impact of climate change is unfolding all around us at a cataclysmic rate.

Rain water from last night’s deluge – Photo: L. Weikel

What Fell From the Sky?

When I woke up this morning the evidence that we’d had a wild night of torrential storms and rain was everywhere. Leaves and branches stripped off trees. Limbs and entire trees blocking roads and taking out electrical wires and cables.

I’ve been emptying our fire pit of the water that collects in it after each storm. It’s a convenient pluviometer, albeit not as accurate as more conventional rain gauges. Sometimes, however, quantity isn’t the only quality being measured.

Which leads me to this morning’s discovery. Take a look at the water that accumulated in the two small coolers I’d left outside last night. It almost looks like strong tea or tobacco juice. It’s in both coolers. There were no tree branches or anything else above either of the containers – only clear sky. Nor were either of them near any drainage spouts.

And then I looked at the fire pit. Good grief! What in the world feel from the sky last night? The water in that fire pit was opaque. And the fire pit had been completely empty at the start of the evening. Not a flake of ash nor any leftover rain from the last storm.

This was bone dry before I went to bed last night – Photo: L. Weikel

Troubling

I’m wondering in all seriousness about the color of our rainfall last night. Why in the world did it range from golden brown to walnut black? And did it fall from the sky that way? It sure seems like it did.

To give context, I’ve included at the beginning of this post a photo of rain falling into the fire pit exactly one month ago (June 8th). The difference in the color of the water falling from the sky is obvious.

I wonder if this has any significance whatsoever. It sure doesn’t feel right.

(T-140)

Deluge – Day 472

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Photo: L. Weikel

Deluge

I didn’t realize it was supposed to get as nasty out as it has tonight. It sounds like we’re experiencing a deluge.

I’m sitting here at the stroke of midnight and I can hear water rushing through the downspouts and spattering angrily on the layer of leaves blanketing the flowerbeds. It’s hypnotic, to tell you the truth.

But it would be so much more pleasing if I were sitting here periodically checking on the depth of the snow falling outside instead. I love being in the midst of a true nor’easter blizzard – especially when I’m toasty warm.

Virus

I’m sitting here with thoughts of viruses and pandemics and incompetence swirling in my head. I’m constrained to admit it: I’m struggling to discern something – anything – I can write about that’s not either political or morbidly depressing.

My usual go-to in situations like this is my cache of photos. Almost always, I can find an image or two that will lead me on a merry chase of writing about something or another, usually a topic I had no intention of addressing only minutes before. Or at the very least, I can find something that will make either you or me (ideally both of us) smile.

The best I can come up with tonight is a photo from when I was crossing the Williamsburg Bridge in NYC a few weeks ago. Even though it’s blurry, there’s something right about it. It captures a weird sense I have about life right now.

Distraction

It feels like this is a time to allow ourselves a little distraction. In fact, in some ways, it feels like allowing for occasional distraction may be the only way any of us will survive what’s coming.

Yes, we need to wash our hands. Yes, we need to pay attention to what’s going on in the world so we can at least take the necessary steps to keep ourselves aware enough to avoid most of it.

But give me some distraction. Maybe not a deluge of it; but enough to keep me going.

(T-639)

Caught in a Deluge – Day 221

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Swollen Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel

Oof!

I got cocky today.

As you know if you read last night’s blog, I’ve been yearning to get back on the beaten path, having missed two full days of walking any distance.

I was keeping an eye on the weather this morning, and I saw that we were under yet another Flash Flood Warning for most of the day today. This was on top of the fact that the National Weather Service reported that our area received – in just three hours early this morning – more rain than usually falls in the entire month of June. And they were calling for another possible 3” this afternoon.

So this afternoon, just after finishing a follow-up email for a client, I decided to run out to the store. The sky looked ominous, and I wasn’t going to risk walking. Not with the thunder I heard rumbling in the distance.

Well, that was a good decision. The not walking, I mean. Turned out I didn’t even make it to the car. All of a sudden, just as I was gathering my keys and journal (I never go anywhere without it), the entire house got dark. Not in the sense of losing electricity; rather, the clouds I’d only glimpsed (and heard approaching) on the horizon were suddenly on top of our house. And they were so thick and so oppressive, the natural light of day became so obscured that it looked and felt like well past sunset.

And then the heavens opened. We experienced a deluge.

Deluge; 20 June 19 – Photo: L. Weikel

Hard to tell from the photo above, but the rain was streaming from the sky. The small creek across the road overflowed its banks and coursed down the center of our road. Our entire back yard became a series of small ponds.

Cut to 45 minutes later. The azure sky is crystal clear, sunshine is sparkling off the millions of raindrops puddled on or clinging to the leaves of all the trees surrounding us.

OK, I think to myself. I’m bagging the store run. This is my chance to get a walk in!

I call Spartacus and he is, of course, game. I strap him up in his harness and away we go.

Even the tiniest and most obscure natural drainage areas – most of which I’ve hardly ever seen any sign of water in at all – are coursing with vigor and have discovered their voice. (I wish you could touch your screen and experience the ‘live’ version of the photo below, because you can hear the water’s deep throated celebration of its power.)  (And don’t even get me started on how bizarre those ‘live’ photos on iPhones are. They’re just like Harry Potter!)

Aftermath of the deluge; 20 June 19 – Photo: L. Weikel

As I walk, I’m actually ‘hearing’ the rushing sound of water in areas alongside the road that are obscured by nearly-blooming day lilies and an assortment of other tall, grassy greens. If I could not hear that literal roaring sound, I wouldn’t even be aware that there was a creek flowing along that part of the road. Amazing.

Alas…

Spartacus and I made it about 2.5 miles when we met up with Karl and Sheila, who had walked toward us from the other direction. Not a minute passed following our reunion when I suddenly realized clouds were approaching from the west again. Rapidly. We quickened our pace, but the attempt was futile.

It was as if we were in the midst of one of those ‘microbursts.’ (And I suppose we may have been; I can’t say for sure.) Tthe reality is: we got drenched. Soaked.

Civic Duty Pays Dividends!

But you know what was really cool? A young woman, who might actually be part angel, pulled up alongside of us in her white vehicle just as the rain started coming down in sheets. She looked familiar, but I didn’t know her name. She asked if we wanted a ride.

Our neighbor (not immediate – she lives about a mile away from us) actually invited us and our drowned-rat pups into her car and gave us a lift home. Of course, the storm had passed and the sun was out again in the short time it took for us to get back to our house. But we would have been even more soaked and bedraggled if the wonderful Amanda hadn’t saved our bacon.

It turned out she recognized me from when I’d worked as an election official in May. See? Civic duty pays dividends in the most unexpected ways!

(T-890)