Tuesday, June 28, 2011

We Are Awash

It is one o'clock early Tuesday morning here in the Texas Panhandle, and we are finally experiencing the first significant rainfall of the year. The lightning streaks across the dusty red sky, scaring the dogs in the neighborhood. The thunder grumbles back at their barking, like a bear just out of hibernation.
I lean my head out the back door to witness the dots across my patio. The first drops hiss and steam, releasing the heat of the day into the welcoming night. Within seconds the cement is covered with reflective circles of suicidal drops and within minutes, we are flooded. I can't resist stepping out to have a nice summer shower.
The boys are already out there, soaking it in, laughing at each other. Our feet are submerged. We wade through the floating twigs and leaves without much care for the mess. An unseen neighbor lets out a loud whoop of joy, and others are heard laughing at the craziness of it.
We are loathe to force ourselves indoors, but soon enough, we must seek shelter. The torrents are too strong. The flowerbeds are flooded, and the streets are filling. The television is warning us to stay indoors, do not drive across intersections covered in water, take caution with our travel. It is unlikely that we will be going anywhere tonight.
 I stand at the front door and spy others leaning out their screen doors just like me. I stretch my hand out to capture rain pouring off the roof and come back with a palm full of muddy water. Finally, the shingles will be showered clean.
I shiver and shake off the beautiful chill.
We leave the doors and windows open.

14 comments:

  1. That sounds loverly. There's a clear image of a bunch of mad cats being all giddy-like out in the deluge. I've been hearing about how dedicated it's been further south and west of me. Fuck, even just four thousand vertical feet below and to the east of me, and yet runoff here is scary-high. Such a juxtaposition, but that is curiously entertaining.

    Still, glad ya'll got some rain...

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  2. When you say stuff like that, it makes me think you're sitting cross-legged at the edge of a cliff, waiting for the rest of us to suffer the arduous climb in search of your wisdom...(maybe this is why your friends think you're a guru.)

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  3. Ah, there's nothing like summer's first rain. Especially when it's long anticipated, much needed, and Mother Nature responds with a fit of moist medicine. I can smell the rain beating the parched earth in this post. So wonderful!

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  4. We drove home in it. With the windows open, palms outstretched, just to feel the moisture. It didn't matter that it felt like small needles stinging our arms. It was just wonderful to finally feel rain again. Unfortunately, it only followed half way home...

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  5. Kenzie and I were at the bar when this happened. We danced in it a little, then when we decided to go back inside, the wind started blowing so hard that the entire patio was soaked. It didn't want us to go in just yet. So, we recruted some drunks and had a rain dance party outside until we were soaking wet. Everyone was cheering and dancing. It's been way too long.

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  6. Jayne- it lasted a couple of hours, and I stayed awake listening to the music of it until it was played out.

    Misfit- Too bad you guys didn't get any. Maybe it will be your turn next.

    Sara- please, please child, don't tell me about your excursions at (gasp) the bar!

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  7. oh, i know exactly what you're talking about, and i agree with jayne, i can almost smell the rain while reading that. what a great post!
    (hey, maybe this is what the old guy was talking about? just got his premonition a bit early...)

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  8. Indy, that's so funny, I was thinking the same thing!

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  9. I love summer rain, the energy fluctuations before, during and after a good storm is amazing. I am glad you stepped out, I miss wading and looking up onto a rainy sky.

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  10. That sounds fantastic. I've just driven home in a thunderstorm, so reading this made me smile in recognition.

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  11. jervaise brooke hamsterJuly 8, 2011 at 6:54 PM

    Nessa, i want to bugger you and unload half-a-pint of spunk up your incredible arse-hole, then i want to sodomize you and unload another half-pint of spunk down your lushious young throat.

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  12. Shopgirl and light- There was a nice warm summer rain about a week later. If this keeps up, I may have to mow my lawn soon.

    Jervaise- sorry, I'm not your type. I'm about twenty years too old, I think.

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  13. I did not hunt him down and chop of his family jewels. It would have been un-neighborly.

    Nothing pisses me off more when camping than assholes and loud music, I've shut down more than one party in campgrounds, you can't be a bad neighbor and do that shit around me.

    "Shut that goddamn thing off or I'll shoot those speakers." Hey, works for me.

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  14. Well put, BBC. I wondered if anybody ever reads the sidebar. I'll change it before too long.

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