Posts Tagged ‘Rain’
As Planned
photo by Elysa Hays
With rain threatening for most of the morning, we stuck to our plan and started the day focusing on the landscape pond. We rearranged a lot of rocks, placed the pump, built a waterfall, and then stacked stones around the plastic tubes to make them less conspicuous.
Cyndie had purchased supplies to help keep the water clear, and set about tending to that. Elysa served as my consultant, giving me feedback on how my placement of stones looked from afar. Elysa also took a turn at capturing photos, and pruning dead growth from the few perennials growing out of the water.
Since we are experiencing problematic wetness around the property this spring, it feels nice to finally embrace water for once, as opposed to frowning over it, longing to see it gone. Cyndie wrapped the water line and power cord from the pump with some vine leaves, and after topping off the overall level with a bit of fresh water from the hose, we declared the pond complete and ready for the season.
We are lucky to have had the help of Elysa and Anne all weekend on the variety of things we chose to do. We didn’t make it to the work weekend up at the lake place, but having them here made it feel like a special weekend, and their efforts provided great gains and priceless company on the first Memorial “work-weekend” at Wintervale.
Life Saved
I don’t know why, but the last couple of days have been really hard on some of the birds Cyndie feeds. We have been hearing multiple impacts on our doors and windows. Three have died instantly. One looked to be particularly shocked, but still alive. We checked on it, off and on, for a couple of hours. Finally, Cyndie could stand it no longer, and decided to bring him in out of the cold.
The cats seemed happy with that idea. I think they were interested, but didn’t seem overly fixated. Cyndie parked the box in the second bedroom, and shut the door. She had consulted online instructions for rescuing a stunned bird, and planned to see if it was ready to go in the morning.
At first light, she set the box outside and opened the lid. Success! The bird was well enough to fly away. That was pretty rewarding.
I decided to try to get some work done outside, before the predicted rain set in. I chose to work on moving rocks beside the barn. It is still really wet out there. The ground is completely saturated. When I pull up a rock, water runs in to fill the hole left behind.
We are going to try to move only one tree, and then dig out an opening, and move some dirt around the back to provide a path for the tractor. It is very obvious that we will need to make provisions for drainage, on both sides of the path.
This snowy spring is providing us with a very good demonstration of how and where drainage occurs here. Notice how much of the snow had melted by yesterday afternoon?
I ended up moving the pile of landscape rock up the hill to the area where the black container is in the image, to get it completely out of the way. I didn’t want to put it too far away, though, because we are going to need to put it back on the slope where we cut into the hill.
Halfway through that task, it started sprinkling. I ended up racing the weather. As I continued to get closer to finishing, the rain kept growing more intense. I didn’t want to quit, so I worked through it. I was pretty soggy by the time I was done.
If you look closely at the image, beside the eagle statue by the door, you can see the corner of the ice/snow pile that extends along the back side of the barn. We still can’t get the rocks loose in that spot, because they remain frozen in place.
Having a driving path behind the barn is going to be tricky, because of how the snow slides off the roof. It is worse now than it will be in the future, because that pile is from the full winters’ worth of snow that accumulated. 
Next year, I plan to plow that as it falls, so it won’t build up to the same degree.
By the end of the day, the rain had turned to snow, and we began with the next heavy accumulation, just as predicted.
Snow, again?! Yes.
Happy April, 2013, the year of perpetual winter storms.
Flash Boom
Shortly before midnight on Monday night, I was having a very interesting dream, the gist of which I have now totally forgotten, likely because the dream was abruptly interrupted by a curious booming sound. It was thunder.
There is a brief period of transition from asleep and dreaming, to being awake, when logic has yet to establish firm footing. I raced right through that confused state of mind when the next bright flash and booming thunder snapped me to attention. That was when I realized we weren’t experiencing one of those rare thunder-snows. I was hearing a full-fledged downpour of rain, …in January. I have never witnessed anything like it in my entire life. It was pouring. A deluge. It included continuing lightning strikes, (we counted 7 in all), in about 15 minutes of roaring rainfall. I can’t imagine what it would have been like if this fell as snow.
I was like a little kid, running from window to window, trying to take it all in. This was an exceptionally dramatic weather event for me. Where was all this water going to go, with our ground frozen solid? I wondered if we might lose electricity. While I was still able, I hopped online and summoned a radar image.
There was a pretty big area of sleet that funneled down to a small tail of the classic green, yellow, and red of a thunderstorm, and that was centered right on top of us. It looked to be only about a couple of miles wide. Hmm. Aren’t we special?
We chuckled over suddenly having two cats show up in our bed, looking for some extra cuddles, a lot like the way children are known to act during a thunderstorm.
Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie and I took a walk to survey the aftermath and decided the rain was a good thing, even though it trashed the snow, and turned our roads into a nightmare of icy-ness. With the rainfall unable to soak in, it provided a perfect graphic representation of the drainage in the area we are planning our fences.
The spot where we cleared out the brush and created a small runway appears to work wonderfully. Then there is an area where the wetness 
spreads out a bit, before coming together again, right where we expected it to. The stakes that our fence contractor put in to identify the drain path are smack-dab in the middle of the wettest spots.
The whole experience was pretty exciting, if maybe a bit unnerving. It’s going to delay the start of our paddock fence installation for a while, but we learned a little something out of the event.
This is the second time since we moved here, last October, that our sleep was interrupted by a dramatic thunderstorm. With the house situated on the high point of our property, I’m not entirely surprised. It’s just that we haven’t been here during the normal time of year for thunderstorms yet. I wonder what’s in store for us when springtime finally arrives?
Drama Continues
This is a continuation of yesterday’s post, “Rain Delay”
It was about 20 miles to the first scheduled pause that Thursday morning, a convenience store and gas station at a wide spot of the road called, Clam Lake. We reached the limited cover of the overhang of their roof just as the rain began to establish itself as a soaker. One after another of our group stepped inside to get out of the rain, until the place was filled beyond capacity.
Bikes were parked around the gas pumps and stacked 4-deep under the eaves. They had a television overhead, tuned to the weather channel, and we could see the radar image of doom headed our way. It was going to get worse, before it would get better. Our conductor, Jim Klobuchar, reported that the clerk was okay with our waiting it out in their store.
We entertained ourse
lves with conversation, and slowly but surely found more and more things to purchase. It started with drinks, moved on to snacks, and eventually included neck gators with skulls on them. Meanwhile, lightning flashed, thunder clapped, and the electricity flashed on and off a few times.
An hour passed. Then another. It was one of the few times when everyone in our group was in the same place at the same time, with nothing to 
do. It occurred to me that it was a perfect opportunity for the song I wrote, the one that makes reference to, “the trials of surviving a ride through a day-long storm.” The sing-along chorus would work well in this situation, I felt. Too bad I didn’t have my guitar.
I went for it anyway, a capella. Despite not being able to remember all of the verses, standing in front of the checkout counter, singing to the captive audience, worked as well as I could hope. It was a good lift of spirits, and refreshed our bonds of shared adventure. This trip is what we all do, rain or shine.
Eventually, the most threatening band of the storm moved past, and we were given clearance to go out into the rain to pedal to our lunch destination, about 17 miles away.
By the time we reached that stop, everyone was soaked, and a bit chilly. The proprietor met us at the door with towels, which was greatly appreciated, and quite frankly, necessary. After a pizza lunch, the next leg to Hayward would take us right past the driveway of my in-law’s lake home, where we had conveniently stashed a couple of cars at the beginning of the week. I was thoroughly pleased with our fore-planning. A small group of us would pull in there and dry off, warm up, and use the cars to rescue others, after which we could then pick up our bags of gear that would be at the school in town.
Of all the difficulty and drama that we endured in the rain that day, the issue that created the most trouble for everyone ended up being the handling of our bags. Our loyal courier, John, had attempted to unload the bags into the school gym, but was forced out by a representative of the building, being told to place them outside. They sat in the rain long enough to get very, very wet, before the Superintendent showed up and said the bags should be in the building. Poor John had to move them multiple times, and then ended up looking like the bad guy, for letting all our stuff get soaked. It definitely wasn’t his fault.
Word spread that John did the best he could to protect our things, and we were ultimately able to offer up an ovation of appreciation for all he does for us through the week.
Our night at the lake home (while those who failed to find a motel room in town, slept in the gym) was a mix of luxury and laundry. Clothes and gear were spread far and wide in an effort to dry out for the final leg of the ride on Friday, when most folks biked back to their cars.
I and a few friends wouldn’t be biking that stretch of the trip. We stayed one more day, to relax on the lake. It was a wonderful opportunity, especially after that day of riding in the rain.
Rain Delay
Cyndie reported some dramatic news on Friday, then she went out of town for the weekend, to her brother’s cabin in Maine, and out of communication. I haven’t heard from her since. I’ll write more about that, when I know more.
So, back to this year’s bike trip. I was dreaming this morning that I was on the trip again, and we were riding in a school bus that was navigating the streets of a town. The locals had marked our route by placing bicycles along the center line, like cones, to guide the bus to our destination. The bus was making a turn and trying to climb up a very steep hill (Bayfield, anyone?). The driver missed a shift and was rolling backwards to get back to a place he could start over and try again. Then, suddenly we were walking up the hill.
We came to a house where we would all stay. I was trying to claim a place to sleep on some furniture in the middle of a room.
I don’t know why a mind does this. The dream was an amalgam of situations that really happened, but morphed, as dreams usually are.
I didn’t ride in a bus this year, but some folks did.
One of the big dramas of the week played out on Thursday, as we pedaled from Mellen to Hayward, the second-to-last day of the trip. I distinctly recall Jim announcing that it was going to be a great day, as he wandered among the tents with his whistle, making his 5:30 a.m. wake-up stroll. He says that often, during these daily rousings, so it can mean a lot of different things, but I sensed it indicated fair weather. I let my guard down a bit.
My first hint of the truth came from John, our trusty baggage handler. When I handed my bag of gear (tent, sleeping bag, clothes) to him, for loading into the trailer, he asked to confirm that I had my rain gear. I made light of it, figuring that I had my riding jacket on the bike, which is all I tend to bother with for riding in rain, as well as a cover for my trunk pack, which is always in one of the pockets.
Then he asked the same question again, in a more serious tone, to be sure I understood what I was in for.
The morning was overcast, but it didn’t appear threatening, so I chose not to dwell on the subject. Also, this was the day we would ride right past the driveway to my in-laws’ lake home, where I planned to spend an extra day, luxuriating with a few friends, while the rest of the group rode the final leg back to their cars. I knew I had options. Good options.
I was feeling pretty strong on the bike that morning, and tagged along on Tim’s wheel at a healthy pace. In an hour or so, the sky took on a more defined color, mostly a dark gray, above the trees in the view ahead of us. We could tell it would be a bit of a race to reach our first rest stop before water started falling from the sky. I think we all picked up the pace just a bit as the drops started painting the pavement. We knew we were close.
the drama will continue, tomorrow…
Helpless Feeling
Waiting, powerless, for nature to take its course and drape our trees with heavy burdens of ice and then snow, is a real exercise, but not one that is very rewarding. I am always fascinated with dramatic weather events, but when a storm involves the slow stress of accumulating ice on otherwise innocent tree branches, my fascination becomes tumbled with a bit of anxiety. Presently, this region is beset with an ugly, grumbling winter storm. Trees are drooping big time.
What can I do? I binged on a few extra Girl Scout cookies last night that were left as gifts by guests of our weekend event. It doesn’t quite solve the helpless feeling, but it massages the pleasure centers of taste and texture, providing a temporary distraction. (All those good intentions of last week, where I walked and exercised every day, diminished, by a moment of weakness.)
We have lived in the house on this lot for about 25 years. Just 3 days ago, Cyndie and I met with a realtor to begin the process of selling this home, and buying a horse farm. It would be a shame to lose trees any time, but right now would be very unfortunate timing. I won’t be available to clean up downed timber. I am tasked with removing wallpaper.
What is the deal with wallpaper? When it was installed during our remodel, it was the crowning achievement. It finished the rooms beautifully. All the comments we received were positive.
Now that it is time to sell, wallpaper has got to go. Out with it before somebody sees it!
What changed?
Why do people even bother putting wallpaper up if they are going to have to take it back down again, and it is such a pain to remove? I don’t understand “decorating.”
Drooping tree limbs. Wallpaper that has fallen out of favor. They both give me a helpless feeling.
Real Event
Just a (not really) typical night down at the U…
. 
. 
.
. 
Did I mention that it rained? Rained and rained? It did. That was the wettest I have been from rain that I can recall. My fingers became pruned. I am only a casual fan of U2, but I have the utmost respect for them. Being there was definitely special. It was a really remarkable event Saturday night. In addition to the natural excitement of such a large gathering of fans, and the world-class production of the show, we were able to view the fireworks of the Minneapolis Aquatennial Festival during the concert. And it all coincided with a pretty dramatic lightning display traveling across the sky. It was not very clear which of the flashes and booms were coming from which source.
With the weather having been so incredibly hot and humid lately, the fact that the evening started out pleasantly comfortable may have caused me to drop my guard. I did not fully prepare for the obvious outcome that played out. Not only did I get really wet, so did everything in my pockets. Luckily, both phone and camera survived. My wallet looks a bit worse for the wear.
Actually, the soaking was not the worst part. Waiting can be a real drain, but waiting in the middle of the night when you are soaking wet was a real buzz-kill. There was gridlock in the vicinity of the stadium for a long time. We were prisoners in the parking ramp for 1 hour, 45-minutes. The eventual exit involved turning around and driving the wrong way down, since everybody else was doing it.
Eventual bedtime… after 2 a.m. Fitting, I’d say, for such a significant event.
Good Bad
The good news is that the volatile spring weather calmed down enough to allow the asphalt company to seal our driveway as planned yesterday. Meanwhile, my car is in for service, and I’m using Cyndie’s, since she is out-of-town. I got home from work to find the promised ribbon across the entrance to our driveway. The asphalt looks practically brand new with that fresh coat of sealant. I parked the car in the street at the end of the drive. The bad news is that the volatile spring weather reared up and stormed hail down on Cyndie’s car about an hour later.
Taking a Pounding
Last night at the lake place, we received some pretty intense rainfall. A spectacular show of lightning kept us entertained just after sunset. The power went off briefly, but recovered and has been stable since. When we started to hear the pangs and clanks of hail, there was a hurried effort to rearrange vehicles to clear a spot in the second stall of the garage under cabin 3 so our friend, Rogie, could get his special car out of harm’s way. That is all it took to stop the hail. Never heard another whack after that.
One particularly dramatic moment came when someone spotted what looked like smoke coming from one of the landscape lights. We all squinted through the wet windows to clarify what we were seeing, and my first impression was that it didn’t look like steam from the hot bulb, as would be expected. It really looked like smoke! One opinion fed another and soon Cyndie was reporting that she saw sparks. A moment later, I was sure that I saw flame. Could it be that some part of the wiring was short circuiting out there in the rain?
Cyndie jumped when she heard ‘flame’ and ran to do something; I didn’t know what. I walked out the door into the rain and over toward the light to investigate. Just like Mike said, it wasn’t sparks or flame, it was the rain drops hitting the light and splashing up. The “smoke” was actually steam, after all. Just goes to show the power of the mind to perceive what it expects to see. I was so sure I had just seen flames from inside looking out.
Then I looked up, still in the falling rain, to realize that Cyndie had run through the cabin to the basement door, out to grab the garden hose, and had arrived to put water on it. In the rain. I thought that was pretty funny. She was just as convinced as me that we had a burning landscape light on our hands.
The whole place took quite a pounding last night from the heavy thunderstorm. So did the accuracy of my perceptions. It serves as a convenient reminder that things may not always turn out to be exactly as they might appear.
From the Archives
I recently re-discovered this word-painting of a July cloudburst I wrote back in July of 2002…
Playin’ in the Rain
Picture the protracted heat and tropic humidity of the consummate summer extreme. Consider the moment when days upon days of overexposing blasts of intense July sun and heat finally give in to the interruption of boiling piles of cloud and the electric anticipation of pending eruption, as opposing air masses collide overhead. Marvel at the quickness with which change takes place. Wonder at the speed of rushing air that intuition tells you should be cool, while senses still perceive heat. When the cloud finally bursts, and the torrents are crashing down, you barely hesitate. Regardless the natural inclination to seek shelter, you step out to feel the weight of impact on your head. With clothes now sticking and drooping with the weight of water, just try to act mature. The pavement steams and simmers, calming your feet with accumulated warmth, while at the same time infusing you with the irrepressible provocation to dance. Arms fling out, head rolls back and splashing ensues. No matter how old you really are, you are a kid again. Silence is not an option. You are as wet as you can possibly be, and at this moment, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
That surely must have come from memories of my youth. We don’t get rain like that here any more. The metropolitan area surrounding the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul has grown so much that we now have a big enough heat-dome over the area to impact the weather. The majority of weather fronts approaching the vicinity of my home, located at the southwest corner of the metro area, tend to break up and slide around to the north and south now days.
I bet if we got doused again like the writing above describes, I would be strongly tempted to go out and play in it like I remember doing when I was a kid. I remember one time when we were able to swim in the flooded corn field across the road from our house after a particularly heavy down pour.
Ah, those were the days. The good ol’ days. I can say that now that I’m old. I suppose the farmer didn’t think it was as good in those amounts at one time, but it sure was exciting. A time when we couldn’t resist the lure to play in the rain.
Relative Something 