wordinista

So yes, THE RAIN HAS STOPPED, and the flood waters are slowly starting to recede -- at least in our back yard. I need to walk the dogs because they have been cooped up indoors for two days now, and a walk is vital to my sanity as well as theirs. I've also been feeling cabin fever like crazy, so yes, a walk is DEFINITELY in order. My only problem is that I'm not sure where I can walk the dogs. I was considering our usual nature path in hopes that it's not totally underwater when I remembered a "helpful tip" I heard on the news yesterday, that basically went a little something like this:

"Exercise caution when venturing into flooded areas or areas that might be flooded, as we've had numerous alligator sightings."

So maybe I won't take a walk down the nature trail where I know there to be not one, but two alligators in residence, yeah? Yeah.

ETA: Curiosity overpowered common sense and I went down the nature path anyway. I saw no alligators! The water was higher than I'd ever seen it, and there was an obvious current that was really quite strong in places.

I can't remember the last time I took a walk in the rain. It was bizarrely liberating, feeling it soak through my cap and shirt and simply not caring. A few trees had fallen, giving the path an air of... charming neglect. Everything was damp and green and smelled clean, just like the world does after a raifall. I was soaked to the bone by the time I got home; I've since had a hot shower and I'm waiting for a cup of tea to steep. It's still raining, but much more lightly now, and there's no more tension in the air -- it's just rain and I am happy to sit at my desk and watch it fall.

To give you an idea of just how much rain we've been getting, here is a picture taken from my backyard this past May. Yes, I know it's of Sydney's butt. The point is, look at the level of the canal.



Now. I just opened the back door a crack and took these with my phone.








WHAT THE HELL, FAY. STOPPIT ALREADY. >|

So. Much. RAIN.

I've actually  been... sort of productive, in the writerly sense, which is nice, even if my head is still a bit hurty from yesterday's migraine.  I'm sitting by the window, watching the trees bend and their boughs rustle.  The rain isn't quite horizontal, though still blowing past at a forty-five degree angle.  Our neighbor across the canal hasn't mowed his back yard in a few weeks (to be fair, it's a pretty horrible slope down to the canal -- even we only have ours mowed every two weeks), but the grass is so long that it's rippling as the wind blows, which is almost soothing to watch.  I love rainstorms, and... I actually don't mind tropical storms, for the most part.  

Hurricanes are different; the tension gets ratcheted up, higher and higher, as we watch projected paths and five-day forecasts, wondering when it's going to hit and how hard and did you buy enough water and batteries and non-perishables?  You wait through a hurricane, sometimes without electricity, and wonder how long it's going to take to pass.  You wonder about the damage, about the electricity and when it's going to come back on.  You listen to the wind blow, and you think, "Wow, I never heard the house make that sound before."

Tropical storms aren't quite as... tense.  The power flickered a bit, but the only inconvenience has been waiting for breaks in the rain to take the dogs out.

Well, that and the tornado warnings.