It rained and it rained and it rained. “Maybe they’ll cancel school,” said Abel hopefully, but I told him, “Not in Oregon.” If this was snow, now, they would. Although the bus stop is less than a block away, they burst into the house dripping wet, Ilsa’s hair in wild curls.
The twins shouted at me to come see the river, but I had already seen it—rushing, swollen and turgid, down the small street in front of our house. This house is on a tiny street, sort of private drive—there are 3 houses on it, going up a small hill, all of us at the bottom of a much larger hill which blocks our sunlight as effectively as the tall stately evergreens growing on it. We’re the middle house, and I’d already been alerted to the rain by the darkening sky at mid-day and the sound of an ocean crashing down over the roof—well not quite, but it is seriously raining today.
While I was content to simply admire the way the water had formed a sort of enchanting waterfall over the curb—a Niagara-falls type effect, about 5 feet wide—my neighbour seemed more inclined to action, going out with a shovel and digging round ineffectually under the fence, from which issued forth the pouring stream of muddy water. By now, it was forming a small lake at the bottom of our little road, where it meets the bigger street. It gurgled interestingly. He managed to dig some leaves out of the drain, but it didn’t seem to help. The city sent a truck, whose driver promised to inspect the stream that started all this—he suspected something clogging its normal waterway.
There isn’t an exciting conclusion to this—at least not yet. The rain has let up but there are lots of small floods all over town. You can still drive in them though. This isn’t nearly as eventful as much smaller rains in Nouakchott, where there’d be real problems, people’s cooking pots floating off and the sewers overflowing into the streets. But it’s enough to get a few paragraphs out of, at least. Today, the paper said yesterday’s rainfall was record-setting. But the river is gone, along with the tiny gurgling lake.
6 comments
January 17, 2011 at 7:14 pm
LIB
Several times lately I’ve gone out to get the mail from the box and it has been all soggy.
Initially I thot our letter carrier had dropped the mail in a puddle. Today, I realized it’s just when we have heavy rain and the mail’s been out there awhile. The rain must be getting in the box somehow.
On days like this I TRY(operative word) to remember how much I like all the green:\
January 17, 2011 at 8:06 pm
Jennifer
We skied in the rain on Saturday. Ook. It was really weird.
January 17, 2011 at 8:41 pm
Laural Out Loud
I miss the rain so much. I would move back to Oregon in a heartbeat, but my Brazilian husband would die a slow, agonizing death in so much rain.
January 17, 2011 at 9:41 pm
shannon
I love a good rainstorm. Even better if i am sitting inside with my coffee watching through the window or if the weather is warm from a nice sheltered porch.
January 18, 2011 at 10:39 pm
Linda
I love a good rainstorm with lightning and thunder, but not days of it.
January 26, 2011 at 10:43 am
lswan
I loved this post!