Friday, March 4, 2022

Rain? Rain!

Tonight and tomorrow we expect to have the first real rainfall of the year. Our ground is still snow covered and frozen. That means almost no water will percolate into the ground. It will all become runoff. The prospects are interesting and, once again, we’re glad the house is on higher ground. If only the driveway drained better.

the backyard “wet spot” in late March
the backyard “wet spot” in late March
Photo by J. Harrington

The USGS topographic quad sheet for our area designates a “wet spot” in our back yard. The photo above shows what it looked like at the end of March a couple of years ago. In a good year it gets visited by a pair or so of waterfowl. Sometimes the visitors are wood ducks, other times mallards or Canada geese. We’ll try to remember to take a photo or two on Sunday so we can compare early with late March wet spots.

We’re not yet at the time of year when we can relax about snow melting a day or so after it falls. Maybe by the end of the month? Last month, and the one before that, was colder than “normal,” and this month may be trying to follow that trend. The inevitability of warmer days arriving makes the transition tantalizing and frustrating for some of us, kind of like youngsters during early December.


Rain


Toward evening, as the light failed
and the pear tree at my window darkened,
I put down my book and stood at the open door,
the first raindrops gusting in the eaves,
a smell of wet clay in the wind.
Sixty years ago, lying beside my father,
half asleep, on a bed of pine boughs as rain
drummed against our tent, I heard
for the first time a loon’s sudden wail
drifting across that remote lake—
a loneliness like no other,
though what I heard as inconsolable
may have been only the sound of something
untamed and nameless
singing itself to the wilderness around it
and to us until we slept. And thinking of my father
and of good companions gone
into oblivion, I heard the steady sound of rain
and the soft lapping of water, and did not know
whether it was grief or joy or something other
that surged against my heart
and held me listening there so long and late.


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Please be kind to each other while you can.

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