The Wind and the Rain
Jun. 7th, 2008 02:11 pmCentral Illinois has been wracked by storms recently. All is well here at home -- but the roads are flooded deep and swift on either side of us. Some friends south of us live in a county that's been declared an emergency zone due to flooding. In Terre Haute, where some other friends are, the flooding is bad enough that officials are talking about opening sluice gates to save the city -- which will, of course, drown most of the old floodplain. Lots of service outages; our ISP connection was down much of yesterday and just came back. We're deeply grateful to have escaped the worst of the weather, and we're sending positive thoughts for other folks who aren't so lucky.
And this is what global warming looks like in the Midwest. Torrential rain in summer: when the front rolled over yesterday, the rain poured down so hard that I couldn't see the edge of the yard. Floods the like of which we should only see in autumn and spring; but spring was fairly dry. The fruit is growing thick and green on trees and bushes; but for all I know it could turn fuzzy with mold as soon as it starts to ripen. We'll see. The ground is so wet we were afraid to drive a truck over it, so there went today's plans to fetch more mulch, even before we discovered that the roads were impassable.
The weather bucks and snarls across the sky, in no mood to listen to anyone, more often than not. The forecasts are less reliable. Instinct and senses outstrip logic and memory, when everything is in flux. It's down to the weight of water in the air and the taste of ozone, estimating a storm's distance from the way the downdraft feels over tightening skin.
Keep us in your thoughts, if you will. The land needs all the grace and temperance it can get.
And this is what global warming looks like in the Midwest. Torrential rain in summer: when the front rolled over yesterday, the rain poured down so hard that I couldn't see the edge of the yard. Floods the like of which we should only see in autumn and spring; but spring was fairly dry. The fruit is growing thick and green on trees and bushes; but for all I know it could turn fuzzy with mold as soon as it starts to ripen. We'll see. The ground is so wet we were afraid to drive a truck over it, so there went today's plans to fetch more mulch, even before we discovered that the roads were impassable.
The weather bucks and snarls across the sky, in no mood to listen to anyone, more often than not. The forecasts are less reliable. Instinct and senses outstrip logic and memory, when everything is in flux. It's down to the weight of water in the air and the taste of ozone, estimating a storm's distance from the way the downdraft feels over tightening skin.
Keep us in your thoughts, if you will. The land needs all the grace and temperance it can get.