Posts Tagged ‘heavy rain’
Return Assessment
Our drive home yesterday took us through one downpour that lasted about two minutes, after which I needed to switch the wipers on and off to intermittent for the rest of the way home. The total in the rain gauge upon arrival at Wintervale read five inches.
Our grass was desperate for a cut, but it was soaking wet. Cyndie’s brother, Steve, met us at our house to pick up their mom and transport her the rest of the way to her place in Bloomington. We were thrilled to see that he brought along his new Havapoo puppy, Vern, for us to meet.
I’m sad we didn’t take any pictures of Asher timidly inspecting the little pup. He showed no concern over the appearance of a strange creature in his territory and acted as if he recognized that this young dog deserved special respect. Before they left, Steve let Vern explore a bit in the grass, and the little guy appropriately used the opportunity to poop.
Cyndie said Asher investigated that spot after Steve had picked up the droppings and left it alone to walk over to the other side of the driveway to pee. I think he already senses that Vern is family.
Before I headed to the barn, I stopped by the piles of composting manure to see how things looked after a weekend away and multiple downpours of rain. It was easy to turn over the most active pile and reshape the others to bring everything up to my overly-tended standard.
The paddocks and the horses weren’t as much of a muddy mess as we feared possible. Paddock Lake was full to overflowing. The friends we employ to stay at our home and care for our animals while we are away do a fantastic job of maintaining order regardless of the challenges the weather throws their way.
This week, we have a time scheduled to meet a new volunteer willing to feed the horses for us when needed. That would be a real boon if she chooses to accept the responsibility.
Mix appeared to be telling us about how well the shade sail stood up to all the wild weather that bombarded the place over the weekend.
I am so happy that we don’t need to panic and pull it down every time there is a threat of high winds. I think that having it nestled in a low spot between the barn and the hill of the hay field protects it from suffering the brunt of harsh conditions.
The only issue reported as a result of the heavy rain was a couple of dripping spots from the ceiling of our bathroom. It reminds me that we should be shopping for a roofing company to quote replacing our 15-year-old shingles.
They aren’t completely shot, but they’ve suffered a bit of abuse over the years. We think the leak over the bathroom might be related to the plumbing vent or exhaust fan coming through the shingles there. It only appears during exceptionally heavy downpours and has never amounted to much.
Overall, our assessment of things upon returning home was rewarding. We are very grateful to have superb house sitters who take such great care of our home and animals.
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Lazy Daze
We are missing out on the wild thunderstorms pummeling the Twin Cities and Wintervale over the last 24 hours because we are up at the lake again. The mass of wet weather is large enough this morning that we are getting a dose of thunder and lightning to start our day, but yesterday was a long, slow, lazy, eventless day up here.
After lounging in bed for longer than I have in a long time, the rest of the day included a leisurely visit to the beach, a perfect nap before dinner, and not much else in the way of activity.
The rain this morning is moving in very slowly, and the air is ominously still. Most notable at this point is how surprisingly dark it is at 9:00 a.m. Cyndie moved the car into the garage under Cabin 3 just in case we get any hail. The weather app on my phone is pinging me with warnings for both Beldenville and Hayward.
These super-sized thunderstorms are the new norm in this ever-warming climate swing. Multiple inches of rain in short spans of time are becoming a common occurrence.
It’s looking like today may be just as lazy as yesterday for us, and that’s just fine. Has us feeling a little sheepish about leaving our horse-sitters to deal with all the weather drama, though. At least Asher doesn’t have a problem with storms, so they won’t need to worry about him.
My motivation for the day hasn’t changed much from yesterday. Maybe I’ll see if I can fit two naps in before dinnertime.
Feeling lazy and only mildly dazed.
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Interesting Sights
I wasn’t quite expecting to see this after the downpours we were receiving much of yesterday, but I was curious about how much water was flowing through our main drainage ditch. As of last night, we had 4.5 inches in our rain gauge.
I didn’t get very close to the little gully I carved to drain water from the field into the big ditch because the entire path was under water. Can you say, “flash flooding?”
Earlier in the afternoon, I saw that the rushing water from overnight rains had pushed away a cinder block from the riprap at the end of the big culvert by the road. I guess I’m gonna need bigger blocks.
Willow trees like a lot of water, so all this rain is giving the dying tree in the paddock a boost. There’s enough new growth sprouting out of what remains of that tree to provide a little shade for the horses again.
Maybe I didn’t need to go to all the trouble of installing that shade sail for them after all.
Speaking of willow trees, I saved a piece from the large section that came down recently because it looked like it had potential for carving a heart shape. I set it in the shop garage to dry out next to several other hunks of wood saved for future projects.
With no sun, no soil, and no water, that slice of tree still has enough residual energy to send out new sprouts of leaves.
It has me thinking I should have planted a willow tree in the middle of the labyrinth. At least a willow puts up a fight even when all the odds are against it.
A giant weeping willow tree would be an interesting sight in the middle of that garden in a handful of decades.
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Finishing Touch
Before the monsoon rains began pouring down on us yesterday, I hustled down to finish raking the path where I had done the trimming on Tuesday. I took a couple of before-and-after photos…
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Late last year, I came up with a plan to leave the cuttings lying beneath the fence wires to smother or stunt future growth there. This will be a second chance to test my idea. The first try wasn’t very conclusive, so I’m hoping this will give me a bigger sample size from which to judge the ultimate effectiveness.
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The green grasses and a multitude of other random plant life common in our region are pretty persistent about sprouting anywhere and everywhere, whether welcomed or not. It would be a sweet victory if simply leaving a mat of cuttings proved successful in keeping our fences from repeatedly getting swallowed by tall growth.
While yesterday’s rain was pouring down, I busied myself with woodworking projects beneath the roof over the shop entrance. When I finished and was closing the door after putting everything away, I found a milk snake slithering along the rocks of the lower portion of the wall. It stopped when it noticed me, putting us at a standoff.
I closed the door, hoping it wasn’t planning on going inside to get out of the minor flooding going on around the building. Then the snake began poking its head into the mortar between the rocks, as if it was looking for an opening. Apparently, it had overshot its door, because when it folded around to poke farther back along its body, it found a tiny hole I couldn’t see and swiftly disappeared inside.
I immediately opened the door to see if it had just slithered right into the shop, which had me thinking I was never going to work in there ever again. I didn’t see any sign of the snake, so I guess it lives in the walls.
That wasn’t the least bit comforting. I can only hope it is controlling the mouse population most likely responsible for making those little holes that provided access to the structure in the first place.
I love the outdoors and wildlife, but I really wish I didn’t have to share space with mice and snakes.
I’d consider plugging that hole I saw the snake slide through if I didn’t believe it would force the snake to eventually come out of the wall into the shop.
I am not a fan of snakes. Not even a little bit.
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Rain Waves
I picked a good day to go to the movies yesterday, and not just because of the discounted tickets on a Tuesday. Overnight Monday we received such a thunderous downpour I fully expected to find washouts left and right. That didn’t turn out to be the case but then the wave after wave of sometimes frightfully heavy downbursts interspersed among periods of really rainy rain all day had local dry creeks flowing like rivers by the time I returned home.
I drove to Hudson on my own to see, “Killers of the Flower Moon.” The ticket cost me $5.50. A medium bag of popcorn costs $6.25.
On my drive to the theater, I found myself getting closer and closer to a wall of heavy rain ahead. Making my way inside before the heaviest rain fell, I headed directly to the restroom after purchasing my ticket. This movie is 3 hours and 26 minutes long. Need I say more?
The quality of the film lives up to the skill and experience of the people who created it. It feels wrong to find myself appreciating a film about such diabolic events in U.S. history. I’m glad the true story of multiple murders to steal the wealth of an Osage family who profited from oil on their reservation at the turn of the 20th century is getting told. Hopefully, it will keep alive a historical truth that plenty of people would rather not acknowledge.
There was a point during the movie when the roar of the deluge outside pounding on the roof of the theater briefly wrenched the audience’s attention from the cinematic world and then another time a little later when dramatic thunder claps didn’t seem to fit with the action on screen. It took some thinking to separate the two events going on at the same time.
It also takes thinking to comprehend the violence occurring in the world today is tragically similar to countless human casualties perpetrated throughout time. It seems hard to believe the human race hasn’t been able to grow more enlightened than what is represented by deadly conflicts that continue to exist to this day.
Those of us beaming waves of love to the world are going to need to up our game somehow to create hope that a tide can be turned with unprecedented global results toward ending human atrocities.
Imagine beams of love that rain down in waves able to wrench our attention from killing “others” and overflow hearts with visions of peace.
Amen.
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Immediate Attention
No sooner had I stepped out of Marie’s vehicle at home and sent her down the road to her home did I find myself tending to the needs of our property. Welcome home, John.
The filter on the pond pump was in dire need of cleaning as the flow was down to barely a trickle. There were more weeds than grass growing in the yard and many of them were in the neighborhood of 8” tall. There was manure to be managed and fence lines overdue for a trim. The labyrinth looks like a jungle.
I needed to drive for gas and diesel fuel and empty mouse traps of carcasses. There were also clocks to reset as there was a brief loss of power while we were away. I don’t dare inspect Cyndie’s garden but the raspberry bushes are ready for harvest so I assume beans and peas deserve some attention at the very least.
It was very satisfying to find the horses had been well cared for during our time away and the flowers Cyndie surrounds the house with look like they aren’t desperate for a drink of water. There is evidence that a heavy rain event occurred based on the flattened grass in the drainage ditches and the significant washout in the paddock.
The uphill rain gauge contained 4” and the one by the labyrinth had 2.25.”
I got the mowing completed down by the road and then trimmed down there, too. Once again, it looks like somebody actually lives here.
After a shower and some dinner, clouds boiled up, and heavy rain and a little hail made another appearance. That brought the temperature down from the high 80s(F) to the low 70s in mere minutes.
The overnight temperatures felt like I was still up north. Only thing missing is a lake, my wife, and our dog.
No wonder I got so much accomplished in half-day of work yesterday.
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Rivers Running
Last Thursday I was driving home from work in a dramatic thunderstorm. By the time I arrived at our house, the bulk of the rain was moving away to the east. I immediately packed my car and drove to the lake with little discussion about how much rain had fallen at home earlier that day while I was working on the far side of the Cities.
Last night, Cyndie finally showed me what it looked like here as heavy rain fell Thursday morning.
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The drainage swale across our back pasture was flowing like a river. The ditch that runs along our southern border looked like an even bigger river. I am very pleased to have just knocked down the tall growth along the center of that ditch only a few days before, allowing the flow to proceed unhindered.
As I was mowing all of our turf grass yesterday, it became clear that the rain we have received has made the grass very happy. It was very tall and has thickened up considerably from the last time I mowed.
Everything is looking as lush and deeply green as a typical June day, which is a little odd since tomorrow is the first day of September. Although, I did notice a twinge of red color starting in one of the maple trees by the barn.
The rivers are done running already, but the wheels of the lawn tractor revealed multiple spots where the ground is still saturated.
It’s a little odd thinking of people living in the path of Hurricane Ida who are dealing with so much calamity while our little flash floods don’t cause any trouble here.
Counting our blessings, for the time being, free of wildfires, earthquakes, and hurricanes, while sending our love out to those who live in regions experiencing some really challenging situations lately.
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Month’s Worth?
Many times I have wondered what it must have been like to live before there was a national weather service and electronic communication to spread forecasts for days ahead. If that were the case today, I’d have no idea there might be a lot of rain on the way this week.
The prediction suggests a possibility of receiving a month’s worth of rain by the end of the week.
Yesterday afternoon, I emptied a half-inch from the rain gauge at the top of our hill and a full inch from the one by the labyrinth. If the graphic on the right proves accurate, we could receive 3 to 4 more inches, or beyond.
Our home is located just above and between the words Red Wing where the graphic shows the darker red color marked by the yellow cloud as “Locally Higher Amounts.”
Higher than three or four inches? Oh, joy.
It is just a forecast, though, and doesn’t come with a guarantee of that amount of rain actually falling here.
The land is already wet, so any amount of rain will add a level of significance to this. All I can do is watch what happens and respond as issues arise.
We are approaching a time when it won’t be possible to use a measure like “month’s worth.” We won’t know what constitutes a month’s worth of rain when the pace of change in our planet’s climate starts to run away exponentially.
There are countless reports that such a result lies ahead in our future. We just don’t have a firm universal prediction pinning down the timing of how soon it might occur.
I have a sneaking suspicion it could end up being within my lifetime.
I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.
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Little Scary
Summer is going out with a bang this year. Tomorrow will mark the change to autumn already, preceded last night by a late season outbreak of severe weather that provided a little scare in our parts.
We were aware there was a chance for heavy weather, but after a couple of intense downpours, our concern lessened and we turned on a DVD movie up in the loft. Three quarters of the way into “Trumbo,” my phone went into alarm mode beneath us on the main floor. At almost the same time, Cyndie received a text warning us our area was about to get hit hard.
I shut down the movie and brought up the local television broadcasts to see what they were reporting. The radar image looked ominous enough that we decided to hustle down from the loft and switch the news on in the bedroom. My natural aversion to hiding kept us from going all the way to the basement, despite the advice of the weather broadcasters. I wanted to be able to see what was happening.
Locally, nothing worth noting was happening, even though the radar image made it appear the worst of it was just moving overhead. I put on boots to step outside, hoping get a better sense of what was really happening.
What was happening was, it had started to rain, so I closed the door and kicked off the boots. It finally changed from dead calm –the calm was actually more eery– to moderately windy. I never noticed a significant main gust.
While broadcasters talked about the possibility of tornadoes wrapped in the rain in very close proximity to our location, we only saw evidence of normal thunderstorm bluster with heavy rain in the barely visible evening light, occasionally illuminated for fractions of seconds by flashes of lightning.
It was scary for a little while, based on the radar image and warning messages, but we seem to have dodged any justifiably scary conditions.
Once we get out this morning in the light of day, we’ll have a better sense of whether we took the drama too lightly, or not. You can be assured I will have my camera with me, so I can share what we find, if there is any damage to report.
I’m hoping the brief scare we got last night was the worst that came out of summer’s last thunderstorm blast for 2018.
I’ll let you know.
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Standing Corrected
I stand corrected. My neighbor finally got my message and stopped by yesterday to discuss the soil eroding from his corn field. In my angst over the mess, I had jumped to the conclusion that he had neglected to leave a patch of un-tilled grass waterway.
In fact, he did, and it has a wonderful patch of grass, below which are some weeds taller than his corn. I had not walked far enough up into the field to notice the full scope of what was going on. Had I looked just beside my focus of the current source of sandy top soil, I might have noticed.
I think it was the willow tree that obscured a full view.
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The sad truth is that the heavy flow of downpour runoff has simply migrated to either side of his grass waterway.
There isn’t really anything he can do about it right now, but just the fact he is now acutely aware of the current situation helps my mind. When he cuts at the end of the growing season, he will better be able to see the whole picture of what is happening, allowing him to consider options going forward.
It may simply be that he tries making the grass water way wider. I got the impression that he believed it was just an unlucky timing of heavy rain in the spring, before the planted corn had sprouted, that created this situation, so the fix will rely on a hope we get lucky and it doesn’t rain like that next year.
I am more of a mind that the likelihood of heavy downpours will only increase until the global temperatures somehow reverse the current trend and drop a degree or two.
Either way, the solution appears to involve a wider portion of un-tilled soil, but that won’t take effect immediately. For now, I am facing the challenge of dealing with the filled silt fence and finding a way to stretch its effectiveness through the rest of this summer and fall.
I’m trying to decide where I can put the sandy soil if I dig out the front of my silt fence. I’d like it to go somewhere that doesn’t end up just washing away the next time it rains, and that’s a daunting feat. I love the hilliness of our terrain, but the runoff erosion tends to be a constant result.
I’m back to that challenge of striving to work with the natural order and not against it. I want to figure out a solution that involves allowing water to take the easy path it seeks, but without it causing such extreme erosion. It’s hard to convince water to flow gently when the land is not so flat.
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Relative Something 