Who'll Stop the Rain?!

This isn't actually a picture taken here in Indiana today, but it COULD be! The forecast calls for more of this tomorrow. . .and Wednesday. . .and Thursday. . .and. . .well, you get the point.

When we suffered through one of the driest summers on record here in the midwest, we never realized that all of the missing precipitation was merely being banked by Mother Nature for one enormous show in late August. . .she must be a fan of the "wait for it" school of theater. All I know for sure is that my dead lawn looks rather depressing, floating underneath the numerous ponds that have developed all over it. The mulch that I so carefully applied earlier in the summer has made a desperate escape attempt; riding the swirling streams of water halfway into the yard, and smothering what grass defiantly dared to grow during the long dry spell - a double herbicide, indeed.

I am certain that our gutters should be functioning normally; I installed gutter guards on them myself, and my wife cleared all of the tree debris from the roof in June. Yet that roaring sound coming from the front door turned out to be rainwater pouring off of the top of the gutter and assisting the mulch in it's futile efforts to return to the mother tree! I care not to investigate, and shall not until all has dried out once more.

My sleep last eve was fitful and disturbed. I kept awaking to a loud, oddly familiar, growling sound from the depths below our bedroom. Fearing that a bear, or at the very least a large raccoon, had invaded the basement, I wisely remained in bed secure in the knowledge that the beast would likely drown down there if the sump pump fail. . .oh! Well, I hadn't heard the wretched thing run in nearly 3 months!!

The lake in our back yard (Not from the rain; it's always been there) seems to be getting closer. I just looked out the back door, and I swear that it's 50 yards closer to the house! I fear that sleep tonight may be a challenge again; and wish I wasn't such an avid reader of Stephen King . .at least the growling will bother me no more. Thank heavens we disposed of the water bed several years ago - I would wake up screaming in a cold sweat for sure!

I'm certain that this was all bound to occur sooner or later. We live in a town called Fort Rain, the local weather service is called NOAA, our esteemed state representative is named Moses, and we're famous for our Three Rivers Festival. You can't say that we weren't warned. . .

Good night. . .I hope.