This has been the season of way more rain than anybody asked for. The hurricane was its own little surprise settling as it did on top of Vermont ….a landlocked small mountain range last time you checked and yes, still. We in Dorset were completely spared. We got rain and wind but it was not near as bad as your typical winter nor’easter. We only lost power around here for about a day. Hardly any tress fell either. It wasn’t until the next day when I realized I couldn’t get anywhere that the reality began to settle in. Roads were washed away and bridges had collapsed. If you had been watching the news and you’d never been to Vermont it must have seemed like we have bridges everywhere since all the news reports were about all the lost bridges. I did not think of this as much of a bridge state. After all we live an hour from the closest highway of which VT only boasts two. What bridges?
Well, along side every little scenic road, which is practically every single road in Vermont, wind little rivers and gorgeous babbling steams. They wind under roads and back several times in any given stretch of miles. And the little rise in the road, with that unimposing guardrail on the side, is what counts as a bridge up here. All those little guard rails and piles of rocks that cause the little rise in the roads…. well those are bridges. And practically all of them washed away.
That was just the beginning. Since then it has rained and rained and rained. We had one little happy stretch of sunny days when my Internet showed a little sun icon for four days in a row and I showed it to everyone I met. It was cause for celebration. That was when the trees finally turned. I actually thought they weren’t going to this year. They were fading and getting crumbly and all seemed lost. And then the sun came out and so did the glorious oranges and reds. But then the rain came right back. We have so much ledge up here that the ground just cannot get dry. Each rain brings the ground water right back up. Everywhere you walk is a soggy mess. Our dogs get clean and then within hours, minutes usually, they are wet and muddy once again. Our floors have a permanent sort of dust from all the drying and shaking going on around here.
We have it all—drizzle and pouring rain. The kind that makes you want to put Ella on the stereo and build a fire maybe make a pot of soup the first few times. Only pretty soon there is nothing romantic about it. You just want it to stop. Please. Now. Right now actually. Look send me a good thunderstorm with wind and lightning and thunder any day. I love the wildness of it. Good storms are like stage sets. There is a sense that something really big, way bigger than me is happening and I am just along for the ride. But this rain has put me in a mood I’ll admit. I feel like I am missing something. Courage. Maybe joy.
Something about gray shaded skies and the steady wet understory and the way the drops run down the windows and splash in the puddles and sure make a person’s eyelids heavy.