It’s been raining here for days and days and days. A Flash Flood Watch was issued this morning, including both where I live and where I work. “The soil conditions remain extremely saturated across much of this region, where 3 to as much as 10 inches of rain has fallen since Friday,” the Weather Service says. “With another round of thunderstorms expected to develop over western Minnesota this afternoon and track east across the rest of the area into tonight, the potential for more heavy rain with this activity could quickly lead to flash flooding and additional rapid rises on area streams and creeks.” The ground squishes underfoot and the Mississippi is surrounded by hundreds of yards of tree-tops, just emergent from the brown surface. The living things are still green though, still hydrated but not drowned.
I escaped the rain for a bit over the weekend, on another jaunt to Colorado, although I had water there too; we spent most of Sunday at an enormous water park, laughing on water slides and rides like children. (The mutual favorite was one that Brother dubbed “So You Want to be a Poop?”) We were splashed and sunshined and occasionally adrenalined. I rejuvenated myself with Brother time and views of mountains. With friends new and old, we drank our way across Boulder, made pasta salad and grilled mushrooms, ate eggs and potatoes at a small diner, walked barefoot across hot pavement. Brother and I hiked through the woods at the base of the flat irons, discussing his various clever ideas for businesses (some very good ones) and scaring up tiny lizards.
It was Fathers’ Day last weekend as well – my dad is such a badass. He gets things done. He is a thinker and a fixer and a comedian, making the world a better place in an entirely competent and thorough way. Brother and I talked to him on the phone from a sunny Boulder sidewalk, where we were surrounded by other dads and grandpas waiting to eat breakfast with their families, and in earshot of them all I said, “Dad, you’re the best dad. Way cooler than all of these guys here standing around me,” which did not perturb any of them in the slightest; doubtless their kids, mistaken, had told them they were the best, but mine really is. I just wish we’d all been able to share some low-acid orange juice and over-medium eggs together in person, and walk around town together noticing small moments of beauty. I love him so very much.
My grandpa’s a badass too. He is funny and active and clever, one of the most well-read people I know. I’m hoping he and my Grandma can come out to visit soon; they’re fun people to spend time with. They visited me on Isle Royale and my Grandpa and I took goofy selfies in front of Suzy’s Cave and saw a swimming moose by the base of the trail to Lookout Louise. I love him to pieces, this father of my father, the guy who’s been teaching me history and economics for as long as I can recall.
My other grandpa is gone now, but I think of him on Fathers’ Day – and often on many other days as well, actually. He was kind and gentle and patient, with a goofy and subtle sense of humor; a wicked euchre player, a builder of bonfires and driver of pontoon boats; a lover of loons and his family. I will love him and miss him always.
Just got another email about a flooded building at the Zoo. It continues to rain.
Here it is, June again already…