It has been the wettest season I can remember, and still after all these weeks, I don’t mind it.
It is good to see the pond full and to hear the waterfall of the spill-way, roaring from the house. We have a whole series of little pots and pans in the Carolina Room to catch the leaks, and at night, when I get still, the sound of the tink and splash is lovely to sleep to.
I’m going away for several days and I always get this desperate tug of homesickness the night before leaving, even for just a short time. So after chores and dinner, in my nightgown and rubber boots (my great-grandmother’s famous ensemble), I headed down to the creek to see it, wild and rushing, breaking out in new streams all over, one last time. And now I’m back and wet and I’m pretty sure there is something crawling on me somewhere, but it was grand.
I haven’t posted pictures from around here in a long time, so here’s a few from tonight, and this week.
I hope your world is wet, dear reader, but not too wet, and that you are dry tonight and happy. When you ask yourself, “Where am I?” I hope you can answer, “Right here.” and be glad to know it.