Saturday, June 6, 2015

And Then The Rains Came...

It has been raining - in waves - for days. The parched and cracked prairie soil is now thoroughly soaked and cannot absorb any more water. I lost track of the total number of inches of water collected in the gauge this spring but it is more than twelve inches in the last several weeks. Exactly two inches fell yesterday while I was at work. Awake in the middle of the night and checking from the safety of the front door, the flashlight beam reveals another three inches in the gauge. The rain is falling still. The creek is roaring.

I no longer have to worry about my house flooding should the little creek escape its banks. It is not entirely impossible for my house to flood - simply because I know to NEVER say never. It would take an apocalyptic amount of rain falling in a very short time on already saturated soil to flood the new house. As long as the rain comes in waves, the water rises, roaring in a downhill blast out of the valley, but subsides to a benign flow in a matter of hours.

I am not complaining about the rain. The long term drought left an ugly mark on me. I am not complaining about the invasive trees encroaching into my pasture - at least not right at this very moment. Their roots are holding the earth together and slowing the unimaginable cumulative amount of water from draining directly into the creek. I am celebrating the lush, green cover of tall grass and prairie plants and weeds firmly anchoring the soil. I am imagining the underground water levels rising in my well though I must exercise restraint. There is a multitude of disgusting things on and in the ground that water contacts on its journey into my well - snakes, grubs, horse manure... you get the idea.

The return of the rain is most pleasing.  The familiar splashing beneath the open windows and the constant rushing of the little creek mean I am home.
Every spring there are different flowers adorning the prairie.
Wild roses.
The rains bring an abundant and verdant prairie.
Nothing but green...
An overflowing pond - something impossible for the last several years.
Every season there are more Missouri Primroses on this bare bank.  My favorite wildflower.

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