I'm not quite that bad (okay, I do have one weather station in the kitchen and one in my writing room, but that's just so I don't have the excuse to leave my desk to go and check -- more writing that way, see? -- and I have a rain gauge, but only one! Right now there's exactly an inch of new rain since I left the house this morning, and our brook is on the rise again. Our little brook, one of those idyllic ones that winds through fields, trickles down a rock cascade, and is perfect for sitting and thinking beside, can turn into a raging mountain torrent and wash out the road and our culvert in under an hour with the right conditions. It gives a whole new meaning to being glad to get home, and since our road dead ends just past our house, it can give us a forced vacation at its slightest whim.
Vermont had a record setting amount of rainfall in April, and right now, our largest lake is at an historical high.
This is a photo I took a few years ago of the island in front of our family camp. I use it as my icon sometimes, because I like it.
This is the same island, from the same spot, this weekend. The lake is about six feet higher, and very muddy. It's pretty amazing. I've never seen it like this before. My grandfather would be beside himself.
And it's supposed to rain all week. Vermont is never dull!