Six Days in April

Barley helps with the lake cleanup.

It's quiet outside tonight; the sky is taking a respite after 6 days of rain. Our boots are parked at the front door; raincoats are draped over chairs in the dining room, and when we go to the grocery store in our olive green rubber Northerner boots, no one stares at us. The little red warning light on our weather radio has been on so much lately, I was beginning to think it was stuck, first warning for severe thunderstorms, then flooding, and today tornado. Fortunately, no tornados have developed, and though we won't be dealing with flooding at our house on the hill, plenty of people in this area will be. 

Have I mentioned that Don likes to count things? He has 3 rain gauges, all within a mile of the Theodosia bridge, and every time it rains he takes the average of the 3 and posts it on his calendar, so at least in theory, he gets a pretty accurate reading of how much rain has fallen at the bridge. Since last Tuesday, we've had over 15" of rain. In the same time, Bull Shoals Lake has come up 15 1/2' and is still rising. Our average annual rainfall is 43", so in the last 6 days, we've received more than a third of what we usually get in a year.

The lake is muddy and runoff from the creeks has washed down dead limbs, which gather on the surface in large drifts. Waterfalls are everywhere. Frogs sing in the ponds, delighted with their good fortune. A pair of wood ducks dropped into our yard when all this was starting; we've seen them in a big hollow tree behind the house, and heard them talking to each other on the big pond. They must think they have found a paradise, where it rains every day, and the ponds are full. They needn't concern themselves with the lack of rain tonight. There's more on the way.

Easter Sunrise

The sky was dark this morning when we met at our country church for an Easter sunrise service.  We stood together in front of the church, the sounds of a country morning surrounding us, cows mooing in the distance, a rooster crowing, doves cooing, and songbirds in the trees overhead.  We met for a sunrise that wasn't visible here, but we knew had happened, and celebrated a resurrection that others witnessed and our hearts confirm.

Jesus said... "I am the resurrection and the life.  

The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 

and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.  

Do you believe this?"

John 11:25, 26  

Storm Symphony

While following a trail in the woods yesterday, I had the distinct impression that Barley and I had crashed a wedding, and that a flower girl had strewn the path with dogwood petals.  It was only the wind, of course, that had coaxed those dogwoods into letting go of their blossoms, and rightly so; they needed to make way for the berries that will form in the summer, ripen to glossy red in the fall, and feed the birds in the winter.

Thunderstorms have been almost a daily occurrence lately, and they came in the mid-morning yesterday, and again in the afternoon.  Late in the day, Don and I sat on the front porch to take in the light show and symphony.  Lightning flashed almost continuously and the storm was deafening; long peals of thunder were overlaid with the harmony of rain on the bricks and rocks.  The finale was hail, its low pitched percussion on the steel roof, mid-tones on the deck, and high pings on the metal railing.  In a matter on minutes, it filled the gutters and overflowed, bouncing like marimba sticks in the grass.

When it was over, white hailstones and dogwood petals filled the front yard.  Mist drifted over the far hillsides, settled down in the valleys, and waited for the next rain.

Purple Onion

Thumbing through my sketchbook the other day, I found a pencil illustration of this onion that a friend had grown in her garden a few years ago.  It was crying to be painted, and I just finished it, and put it in my Zazzle store on an apron and a T-shirt.  I thought it might be fun for gardeners and cooks.