Rain - we walked after

Arriving home tonight I found it had stormed. I drove home through a few sprinkles, but the storm in our neighborhood had been more, much more than that.



birds' nest brought down by the storm

Not sure if this was connected to the nest. Egg on sidewalk 15 feet away.

And what does one wear to walk after the storm? For many reasons (too tired to change, miffed by circumstances unrelated to weather, celebrating the rain) pearls were worn. [It could also have been a need to spiff up a bit after being recognized by a student this weekend while attired in grungy dog-walking clothes (shopping with a friend at a big box store). I am sure the grammar of that sentence is all wrong, but I shoved it all in there anyway. Oh, did I mention the oatmeal on the T-shirt? It was not a pretty look. I am thinking "crazy bag lady" look.]

So I walked pretty this evening. And the pups and I enjoyed the sounds of the last of the storm - the thunder in the distance and the water dripping from the trees and running along the curbs. [Padimus hates thunder, but tolerates it well enough when a protector is near.]

People were running too and nodded a greeting or commented on the lovely dogs (what, nothing about the pearls?).

The park was steaming. The misty vapor rose from the hot pavement and drifted in the slight wind. It was spooky and weird. Glasses were fogged and we debated further time in the thick humid air of the park, but decided to see how muddy our road. We walked and slid in the mud some 20 feet before concluding that we were decidedly overdressed for a fall. [One falls in grungy dog-walking clothes.]



The park was steaming...

Still, we dawdled a bit as we left the park thinking that if we waited long enough some animals would wander out of the woods in the dimming light. But the now empty park and steady drone of one cicada followed by a chorus of "rrrzhrrrrrrr" from a half dozen more began to unnerve us. We thought better of being caught away from home in the dark, unprepared for the things that might await us there.

Although the light was almost gone as we arrived home we noted the huge catalpa leaves torn from their branches (by the wind or downpour) and strewn across the yard. The trees themselves fared well - none rested against the house and no limbs fell as far as we could tell.

Morning will disclose all.




Dying limb - storm damage

Our creek full of water