Again last night it poured. Throughout the late day, the rain came down. Then the weathermen decided that it might turn to snow and began issuing warning, especially to the north of here. When I went to bed it was merely raining. The last thing I heard was the sump pump in the basement.
Even before last night's additional rainfall, we were saturated. As I walked back and forth in Sam's driveway, I became interested in the reflection of Pinehaven in a puddle on the south lawn. It seemed strange seeing it there on the ground upside-down. You cannot walk through the yard without sinking in mud. And this is February, not April.
I woke at nearly 2 a.m. when a particular gust of wind got my attention. I not only heard it, I felt it. The window at the head of my bed faces east and a gust in the mid-40's (mph) actually moved my curtains. Now I'd say we have good storm windows, well-sealed against the elements. And yet that wind, placed as it was, made it through and into my bedroom. It almost parted my hair. I lay there for a while listening to the sleet and rain pelt the glass pane and then an odd silence return. I knew that the rain was changing to snow.
I pulled the electric blanket over my head, hunkered deep beneath the covers and fell quickly back to sleep. This morning we had 1.42" in the rain gauge (surely a record for this date and perhaps for any day in February) and an inch and a half of snow on the ground. One of the two hoses I placed on our downspouts had blown halfway across the yard (anchored there with two bricks).
Today is a nice respite. There have been some breaks in the clouds and some sunshine has made it through; it's nearly 35° at 2 p.m.
That puddle on the south lawn? Grown larger still. It connects with others and gives us a continuous waterway from barn to road.
One last thought: how does the picture I began this blog entry with look if I flip it, bring Pinehaven right side-up? Here it is:
