(not Paleo related)

It’s raining.


Well, it’s raining in Bangkok and they all are wet farther up the leg than I am right now. They are having a rain disaster there that has hobbled transportation and more or less isolated them from the rest of the world.

My problem is not unique, nor is it life threatening.  I live in the Olympic Rain Forest where rain like this is the name of the place, and where nature rules and humans cope with the problem somewhat like the other forest creatures do, but with more helps.

I keep wondering where the little raccoon I sprayed with pepper spray three days ago is today…he is certainly not anywhere near our house, but I know he is somewhere coping with all this rain.

My lucky cat is enjoying the space heater here in the studio; not so comfortable is the feral cat I saw outside skulking to get underneath the carport deck to get out of the downpour.

I’ve spent the past hour reinforcing the gullies and gravel berms built by my son during a rain like this last spring.  The water wants to go down, of course.  Left alone, the water would go down –down into my workshop, and flow across the concrete floor and well up against the legs of my benches.  And around my feet and ankles.

A workshop like that is not a good place to plan plugging any tools in, to be sure! So far the somewhat crude constructions we have erected,  my son and my neighbor and I,  have held.  The water is pooling up in the ruts outside and the driveway depressions, but I have raked the leaves aside so they don’t gang up in a “log-jam” and keep the gutters we built from working.  There’s a merry little creek running across the front of the apron and turning to a rut alongside the shed periphery toward  some large rocks to lower elevations.  Who knows who lives where that water is going, but it is no longer at my place.

Today my shop is still dry except for one stubborn little leak in the Plexiglas where a rubber gasket needs to be replaced. There’s a soup can under that leak, working nicely.  I have a small heater set to go on when things get too cold for the chemicals that are stored in my varnish closet.  The wood is safely dry, at least for now.

So far so good.  A larger gulley has been dug along the uphill side of the workshop which I have set up in a very unattractive way with black plastic stapled to the side of the building and draped like a train into that gulley so that water streaming off the eaves will head down the hill and NOT back into the shop.  I don’t see a stream in that trench today,  but I’ve seen one in the earlier months of spring this year, and expect to see it again as the winter months progress.

In spite of all this trouble, something somehow forgives the forest for making so much work.  The enchanting place pays me in a special way that is like a whisper from God,  like that Biblical voice in the storm, that says this is basic and good and normal.  That it’s part of the design for it to rain like this,  and part of the design for people like me to learn  out how to live compatibly and healthily in such conditions.

But I’m so thankful not to be that cat under the deck outside.  It’s cold at night now.  Hopefully he has enough undercoat that the raindrops have slid off and his body heat is sufficient for the night.  Maybe he has found an unfortunate mouse under there to give him some caloric intake.  Poor mouse.  Poor raccoon.

Lucky me.  Good God.  Old Swimmer


1 Comment

Filed under Nature, NOT PALEO RELATED

One response to “UP TO THE ANKLES

  1. PS…If you are wondering where I photographed the Elephant Ankles, it was at Lake Kachess this July. Those are tree trunks standing in lagoon water with rings of pollen encircling them at the waterline. What an amazing effect it made, and I am working on some art based on this photograph.

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