It started to rain just as I left work last night, and poured stair rods all the way home.
The entire twenty-four mile trip was made in a downpour hard enough to make the wipers practically useless. The streets were so deep in water it was as if I was driving down the center of a river, and the air had that funky smell you get when you clean out the gutters. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a fish to swim past the windshield. I’ve driven those roads for fifteen years or more, and I still managed to drop off into a ditch coming over Sunshine Avenue. The lightening seemed to be directly overhead, and the thunder was loud enough to make one jump.
When I got home, The Squire was nervously pacing up and down up and down the patio, keeping an eye on the stream bank, and stray items were picked up and stacked on the picnic table and in the cart.
Of course, I hadn’t been in the house fifteen minutes before the worst of the storm passed, and by the time I went out to feed the local wildlife, the sun was poking through the clouds. The dishes were completely full of water, so it looked as if we’d gotten two inches of rain in about a half an hour.
Today is cooler, but that’s not much help when the humidity is higher than the temperature. To quote on of my favorite authors, it’s as if I’m breathing Jell-O.
thisendoftheswamp 