Sunday, August 22, 2021

The Weekend

 It has been such a strange weekend. It doesn't help that I'm just so sad about this world. I imagine that a big part of it is that I'm simply tired. Working mandated long hours has me to a frazzle. We have 10 hour days again this week. Catching cold in the middle of it didn't help either. 

It has been raining heavily. The water is high here. Our little creek is twice as high as normal here, and the Kinzua Dam output normally ranges from 1800-2000 cubic feet per second. Due to the rain and the heavy rains coming down the mountains and into the reservoir, the output has been increased to as high as 9850 cubic feet per second. That water has raised the river level by two feet and the current is fast, the water brown. 

Yesterday, Tim left camp early to go up to Levi's. One of Levi's hobbies is that he rescues old horse drawn haycutters from their quiet rusting away and restores them to working order for his Amish community. Tim found one down the road from camp and went to ask the property owner if he was willing to sell it. He was willing, and Tim was anxious to tell Levi the news. I knew that Maddie would be up to her ears in garden produce, and so for a special surprise, he was picking up five pizzas. He wanted me to go, but I was reading a book, nearly done with it, and to be honest, I just wanted the quiet. 

Tim took the dump truck and left, and I sat quietly finishing my book. The thunder rumbled getting closer and closer and the breeze felt soothing. Once again, the rain came. I waited it out, sitting inside. When it tapered off, I collected my vegetables and headed home for a date with my food processer. 10 miles down the road, I was astonished to see that it hadn't rained at all. 

On his drive, Tim discovered that it hadn't rained at all until he got to the bottom of the dirt road that takes you up the hill to the dirt road that Levi and Maddie live on. It poured down rain the whole way up that hill, until just before the intersection. Then, inexplicably, it stopped just as suddenly as it began.

 Levi and his sons were pulling benches into his house. They were having church services at his house Sunday morning. They were tickled to death at the pizzas. Tim and Levi sat and talked business on the front porch for a half hour and then Tim headed back home with a loaf of bread from Maddie. That intersection I referenced earlier? It is in plain sight of Levi's porch. Tim reached it and headed back down the hill and was shocked to run into the same deluge he had come up the hill in. Yet not a drop had fallen at Levi's.

Tim got home as I was shredding zucchini. It is too hot for baking bread right now (unless you're Amish, I guess), so I shred the zucchini, set it to drain for an hour or so, and then I measure it out in two cup increments for the freezer. When it gets cold, it is nice to have the oven going. I can pull out a bag of premeasured zucchini and throw together a batch of zucchini bread in no time. 

A two year old girl was swept away by that high and raging river Saturday. They searched for her all day Saturday, finally finding her body today.

Cara and Colin are fielding phone calls from frantic colleagues trying to get out of Afghanistan. One of the teachers at the university was trying to get to the airport with his wife and child. He was teargassed with his toddler in his arms. He and his wife returned to their home. They expect to be killed when the Taliban finds them. Colin and Cara are making calls on their behalf, as well fielding phone calls from the others still trapped. I told her that I am grateful they are in a position to try to help. I, myself, can do nothing but throw money at the problem. 

Today, I stuffed zucchini and got it prepared for tomorrow's supper. I got the house to rights. I got my laundry done. Tomorrow I will work 10 hours. I'm the top performer in my group, my scores 20 points or more ahead of anyone else's. 

The world is full of sad, sad stories right now, but unfortunately, I'm only good at the things that make no difference at all. 



9 comments:

  1. I expect working 10 hour days are exhausting and the news from Afghanistan is not helping. They speak of defeat on our side, both American and British. The truth is we should leave other countries to live their traditional lives and 20 years of so called support and the War on Terrorism has gone astray. The withdrawal is a mess, people will die and we can do nothing about it, except as you say morally support with our voices and money.

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  2. Localised rain can be very strange, especially if it is heavy.

    I don't understand why so many left it to when the Taliban entered Kabul to leave, and now have difficulty. The writing has been on the wall for months.

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  3. The worst flood we ever had was on a really nice day. No rain where we were, just a concentrated, heavy thunderstorm up in the hills that completely overwhelmed the stream that runs through the village.

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  4. Yu sound to be working too hard - and then making Zucchini bread!! On one of our many visits to the US my farmer husband and I visited an Amish community - dcn't remember where - it was fascinating and the people were charming. The farmer was fascinated by their farming methods.

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  5. Sue won't turn the oven on at all in the heat if she can help it. I will turn it on soon to bake from hash browns to breakfast with grandson sleeping over.

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  6. I feel bad for those trapped in a country that they don't want to be in.

    We often get spotty rainstorms like what you describe in the later stretches of summer. There will be an intense rain cell pass by and usually I can see the rain falling over the ridge somewhere but nary a drop will grace our driveway. Later Facebook will be full of reports of several inches while we got zip and we all live within a few miles of each other.

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  7. You really should try that chocolate zucchini muffin recipe I shared with you. So good.

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  8. We all make a difference - good and bad - if only in the multitude of ways we impact those around us. And it seems to me that sometimes we just need to focus on this, even if it may not appear to be helping what we regard as the 'bigger picture'. Every painting is made up of marks, each is significant, all have meaning.

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