Watching the water rise (again)

I've just read Frank Bruni's excellent article describing how he's coping with sudden blindness in one eye, in which he quotes filmmaker Joseph Lovett: "you cannot spend your life preparing for future losses." But that's what we're doing this weekend as the rain falls and the rivers rise and we watch the forecast and wait to see how much damage lies ahead.

Didn't we just have a flood last week? Yes, we did, especially in the cities along the Ohio River, but the waters receded quickly and it and were not nearly as damaging as previous floods. (I'm looking at you, 2004!) Our creek stayed within bounds while the Muskingum and Ohio Rivers rose; some streets in Marietta were flooded and my friend who owns a gift shop in the historic district had volunteers helping her move all her merchandise upstairs.

Now just a week later she's doing it again, and the forecasts are calling for a much more widespread flood--or not, depending on a variety of factors. We woke this morning to the sound of a downpour and thought here it comes--but then the rain stopped and our creek stayed within its banks.

Our creek's name is Big Run, a bit of a misnomer for a meandering brook that's usually shallow enough to wade across; in the heat of the summer, it's often reduced to disconnected puddles. When Big Run swells to flood stage, though, it's frightening.

On Thursday I was afraid the creek would wash out the end of our driveway, which has happened before--twice the first year we moved in (2004!) and once more since then. Our normally quiet creek roared up into the neighbor's hay-meadow, moved toward our pepper patch, sent waves licking at the edge of our driveway, and looked like it was going to cover the road in several spots. 

And then the rain stopped and the water fell and here we are again, two days later, waiting for the flood.

I don't know why I keep looking at forecasts, which change by the minute: by noon Monday the Ohio River will reach 41 or 42 or 44 feet, which was the height of the devastating 2004 flood, or no it won't, it will stay below 40 feet or barely hit the mid-30s. Each shift of a few inches suggests a different future: campus will be closed or classes will proceed as usual, only with fewer parking spaces; downtown businesses will return to normal on Tuesday as if nothing had happened, or the entire downtown district will be afloat and we'll all spend next week pitching in to clean up the mess.

Either way, there's nothing we can do about it now but wait and watch and listen for the roaring that tells us our creek has reached its limit and is about to burst out of its banks. I'm hopeful: so far the rain has not been nearly as abundant as forecasts predicted, so I'm preparing to teach Monday's classes on the assumption that our road won't be under water. But who knows? We'll find a way to cope with whatever losses lie ahead; meanwhile, it's time to live.

Thursday morning--the view from my bridge.

The neighbor's bridge under water, and the creek becoming a lake.

water in woods

the creek creeping u into our meadow on the right