Yesterday morning, I woke up to the sounds of a thunderstorm and a heavy downpour. I welcome the rain, so needed in our drought.
But my heart still does not soar when it rains.
I have a feeling it never will.
Demolition activity in my neighborhood continues. More photos of the demolition of a historic factory building will come tomorrow.
It's Raining It's Pouring And My Heart is Not Soaring
Then I heard this sound.
There are a lot of sounds around here nowadays. There are the backup beeps of heavy equipment, going day and night (24/7) at the BAE Industries plant, thanks to the flood recovery contractors. There's the sound of garbage trucks coming around to pick up flood debris (using back end loaders and dump trucks.) There are the contractors, coming around to give estimates for damage repair or new furnaces. For a while there were the scavengers, hoping to wrestle scrap metal or scrap something to sell out of a pile of someone's 30 years worth of soggy memories. Thankfully the last has mainly stopped, due to the garbage pickups.
But there is one sound in the neighborhood that we all dread.
It's the sound of rain.
There was just a burst of rain. Heavy, pouring rain. It stopped a few minutes after it started. But more rain is in the forecast for tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. They say maybe 1 1/2 inches of rain by Monday. But they could be wrong. And I'm thinking, and I know my neighbors are thinking: will it be like two weeks ago? Will the basement we just paid Servpro good money to steam clean and dehumidify in an effort to keep our first floor living room floor from warping further overwhelm our new dehumidifier?
I used to love the sound of rain. Even after the flood of 2006 that affected parts of this area I still (after a while) fell back in love with its sound.
I don't know if I'll ever like that sound again.
If it starts to rain again, my heart will not be soaring. It will be in the pit of my stomach.