Snapshots from Green Victoria (tedwords) wrote,
Snapshots from Green Victoria

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"Ted, come here!"

"Josie, hold on," I called into the cell phone. "What's going on, Corb?"

He stood in the hallway, looking out through the window at our parking lot. "Well...I think we might have a slight problem, here..."

I moved over to look out the window. "Holy shit."

It looks as though the week-long downpours that have stretched across the East Coast are starting to take their toll in Eldredge. Our parking lot has been transformed into a river. And, in order to get to my car, I was going to have to wade through water that appeared to be waist high.

Still and all, that wasn't going to stop us from our quest for coffee and warm muffins. I said goodbye to Josie, and we ran back into the apartment, in order to grab a towel, take off our shoes and socks, and start the trudge across the stream, to get to the safety of my car.

The water was freezing against my bare feet, and halfway through, I started to worry that I failed to roll up my pants high enough. Fortunately, the stream plateaued midway, and just kissed the tips of my kneecaps. I fumbled around for my keys quickly, anxious to get inside and dry off my freezing toes.

After grabbing our breakfast, Corb was anxious to ride around for a bit, so I started taking him through the back roads of Eldredge. We ended up at Seven Arrows, an herb farm for which I have incredibly strong feelings. This was the location of several of my more expiramental plays, and I felt compelled to stop, if only to reconnect for a few moments and draw upon, like a lodestone, some of the sights and feelings from my not-so-distant past.

The owner, Judy, was moving around the barn, looking quite industrious. She was a pretty lady, with close cropped black hair and a face full of determination. Her eyes widened when she recognized me.

She knew about the pending divorce. "I've been through it," she said. "I hope it hasn't been too painful."

"It hasn't," I said. "But it hasn't been easy, either." She had a lot to do, and I had an apartment to clean, but we promised to catch up soon and have some tea together inside the barn.

When we arrived home, I noticed that the water level was actually rising. We parked my car on higher land, and stared at the pond that stood between dry land and the safety of our apartment. "Let's try to go around the water, this time," I said to Corb.

"But I wanted to walk through the water in my bare feet," he protested.

Grumbling a bit, Corb followed me, however. We navigated around the water, toward the back of the apartment complex. We paused for a moment to watch a team of guys prepare to remove a flood of water from the basement.

Corb glanced over to the pond, which had swollen and grown so large that it almost reached the circular walkway that surrounded it. "Let's go for a walk," he said. I followed. From across the way, I could see a group of ducks, swimming in the driveway. Two young men were wading in the grass, wearing yellow slickers and casting their lines for fish.

Corb squinted his eyes and looked across the pond. "Where's the water fountain?" he asked. I glanced over. We realized, after a minute or so, that it was still functioning, although the water level was so high that all you could really see was a slight circular ripple in the center of the pond.

I turned on If You're Feeling Sinister when I returned home. It was perfect weather for Belle and Sebastian, and I chose Sinister for its Dylan-drenched orchestrations.

As we ate lunch, a few hours later, we looked oustide and realized that the sun was finally shining. "Nine days of rain finally over," said Corb, and we felt some of the grey from the past week start to fade.

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