For centuries the Concord River has been flowing toward the Atlantic. Before man became a fixture on the landscape, the river followed its rhythms of flowing – and flooding. Living along its banks, I get lost in the beauty and forget the power the river possesses. Only when it encroaches into my living space am I reminded it’s doing what it has done for hundreds of years.
As predicted, the water level continued to rise, eventually forcing the closure of the road.
My Mustang would NOT have made it through the water.
It was big doings for a while since there was a camera crew filming the official closing.
I tried to get Chris outside, hoping he would be discovered like Justin Bieber and we would become rich.
Eventually the access road was opened onto Old Middlesex Turnpike. Unfortunately, Chris and I had already called out of work. I would have preferred a day off to spend gardening. But, alas, the Concord River has a mind of her own.
My basement isn’t fairing any better than the yard. Six gallons of water are being pumped out of the sump pit each minute. I’m lost as to why a house needs a sump pit. Seems like it’s just a place for water to flow into, and eventually out of. Having the pit hasn’t stopped water from seeping through the foundation and floor either. I’m sure the cracks in the foundation and floor have something to do with the seeping but, still, why do I need a sump pit?
As the driveway became a wading pool, I made the decision to sell my car. A Mustang is no vehicle for river life. I need something with a little height to the wheel base. Something like a monster truck!
At least someone is enjoying the water.
The locals are having fun reminding me it’s just the beginning of flood season and “this is nothing!” “Get your hip waders ready and tie down anything that floats.” Great. I can’t wait.
Blessed be :{
concordriverlady.com 