::knocks wood:: Other than some mulch in odd places around the edge of the patio, we’ve not suffered too badly as a result of this weekend’s deluge. It does feel like we live in an aquarium or a snowless snowglobe, looking at the world through endless walls of water.
Being who we are, we went out yesterday to tour our immediate neighbourhoods. My husband and I have this thing of liking to be out when the rest of the world is tucked away. So give us early Christmas day, snow days, days of storms and we’ll be in our car heading to Kroger or Publix to see what the empty world looks like. On top of this natural curiosity, we were driven (ha!) from our home by the loss of our electricity.
I’ve been married for nearly twenty years, and had no idea that being without power made my spouse so stir crazy. Me? If I’ve got a book and a candle I’m fine. But he wanted to be out in the lit world, and I understand that. Yesterday lights were all that separated most of this world from madness. So much water washes your spirits out, I guess.
So we drove around the hilly backroads he knows from biking and made it to Publix without encountering downed things, only driving through a couple of large puddles at the base of Earhart road.
It’s weird. Made all the weirder by the fact that weather increases my pain level. But still, there was something to all that dripping green eerieness that was peaceful in its own way. It was like swimming in a lake or canoeing down a quiet river under canopies of weeping willows. All of the water and all of the trees sort of made it feel like we were part of something basic, something growing, something clean.
It was nice to share that time with the trees and the rain.