Playing the Odds

Outer bands from Harvey arrived early this morning.

To say I’m not concerned is an understatement.

Weather forecasters aren’t always on the mark, when they say–up to ten inches of rain between now and Friday.

I’ve never heard a TV meteorologist apologize when their predicted, two feet of partly cloudy, fell as snow on streets and driveways.

We’ve been through flooding rains before. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t want my house to flood again.

Harvey, doesn’t seem to want to go away.

A Night To Forget

Thanks FB for bringing it up.  This night three years ago, was one I’d as soon forget.  Stayed up all night bailing water to prevent flooding in the rest of the house.

It rained nearly 24 inches in eighteen hours.  “Please God, make it stop,” was said frequently, as the lightning, thunder, and rain pounded unabated.

Things went downhill considerably after this picture was taken.  Before the night was over, the entire backyard was underwater.  Water lapped against the outside glass doors of our enclosed sun porch.  Water was fifteen feet from the front door.

Brand new recliners and smaller furniture were hastily moved to dry ground.  “I wasn’t going to have my new recliners ruined–no matter what it took.” A sofa-bed was propped up on stainless steel kitchen bowls turned upside-down.

Just before dawn, the rain let up.  Water that had been three inches deep, was mopped up and the drying out process underway.

 

 

A Soggy Saturday

My WP account was blocked last night and today.

It’s  going to be a soggy Easter weekend.

The rain has begun.  No outside activities today.

Spring began on a wet note.

Maybe some of the irritating pollen will wash down the drain?

Two years ago our sun room flooded.  Extreme rains are a concern.

This time I’ve secured a bilge pump.  Arrgh! anything happens mateys–I’m going down fightin’ with me ship.

For you high and dry landlubbers–Happy Easter!

 

HOW HIGH’S THE WATER MAMA?

How high’s the water, mama?

Three feet high and rising

How high’s the water, Mama?

Six feet high and rising…

–Johnny Cash–

“Get up!  Get out!  Go to higher ground!  The river is already over the low water bridge,” came the dire warning–accompanied by a loud knock on the trailer door.

My concentration was shot all to heck after being awakened brutally at two in the morning.  My wife grabbed our three-year-old grandson–still in pajamas.  Essentials were packed as quickly as possible–clothesline and barbecue grill left behind.

Swift river water lapped the edge of the campsite.  Trees yielded to the sledgehammer force of mighty floodwaters with loud cracks and pops.  Darkness added to the terror.  It was still raining.

Led out of the campground, somewhere in the middle of a caravan.  All of us were now wide-awake.  Water stood everywhere in low spots.  Park rangers directed us to a campground road on a hillside.  There were no hookups.  It was primitive camping from that point forward.  Facilities were about a quarter-mile up the road.

Would the river recede in time to get to work?  Would we have to be ferried across by helicopter or boat?  There were many questions to be answered in the next thirty-six hours.

Angry brown floodwaters flowed through the valley campground the next morning.  The top of our picnic table was still above water.  Some of our firewood floated willy-nilly.  At least the rain stopped.  Nobody was swept away.  The ranger said six inches of rain fell overnight.

I wondered if three-year-old Alex knew how panicked his grandparents were the night before.  He showed no signs of stress.  I made numerous trips to the playground.  It was there he made an observation–well beyond his years, “Grandpa, I really like the monkey bars, but they scare the hell out of me.”

Another gem of wisdom, came the next night at the nature show.  The park rangers explained differences between reptiles and mammals.  Alex grabbed my arm; looked at me with innocent brown eyes, “Grampa, he was talking about Mamaws.”  I smiled–we’d be sure to mention it to grandma back at the camper.