“Ground water” came to our basement, over the last couple of weeks from the rain. Clear Creek County Sheriff’s office called with recording, warning about flood waters. They had two locations, for sandbags. Blessings come with challenges, often … eh? Example, our wet-vac. Used it every day, sometimes three times within a day. Clear Creek’s normal flow is 200 cubic feet per second. On Saturday, the ninth, it was up to 700 cubic feet per second.
Driving up the mountain, heading for the house, I felt compelled to pull over and get a picture of Clear Creek getting out of hand. That picnic table is usually up on some dry ground.
Many stories, out there, would top mine about Nature’s power … clobbering us humans. A couple of nights after our discovery that ground water was coming up through the basement floor, we were all doing our thing. My wife and I were watching a movie and … CLICK … the power went out. No lights, no electrical juice, no power to run the wet-vac. So, launching up one of those quick-prayers seemed like the only logical thing to do, for the power to be back in the morning.
And, wow … the power was back on. Then I turned on the old wet-vac, and continued my battle against the rising waters. Couple of days after that the Honda Pilot we just bought was starting up and turning off and starting up and turning off without any assistance. We never figured it out.
About the same time, I received a voice mail that I am sure was a scam: …a recording saying that ” … if you don’t take care of this matter … then it will be reported to the authorities.” Now, what “the matter” was, that needed to be resolved, was never communicated. Pretty wild.
When the waters come, a choice is made about what we are going to do: sand bags? wet-vac? sump pump? dig a trench?. If the waters rise, then I will rise. … I will rise to the challenge. When melancholy comes, I have the opportunity to push back. Sometimes I accept the melancholy as an old friend. And, the melancholy does not define me.
So, there you have it.