For a while this afternoon, I stood at the window and watched the awesome power of nature at work. It was raining so hard that it was as if a sheet of translucent glass had been lowered out of the sky between me and my garden. I watched out through windows on all four sides of the house, and it was awe-inspiring.

From my windows I can’t see the road, but I can see the lights of the vehicles coming from several hundred yards to the south. I thought if I stood and watched long enough, I would probably see cars skidding into each other. We’re not used to this much rain at one time, and it made me grateful that I didn’t have to be out in it today.

Then I thought of the people who were out in it, especially Mom. She went to a dinner on the other side of town, and I didn’t relax until she phoned to let me know she’d made it home. Neither of us has a cell phone, but a day like this gives me a clue as to why people carry those things around with them all the time.

Even yesterday at the movies, a man sitting in the same row as us took a call, right in the middle of Sideways. His phone rang (or rather, it sang its little e-ditty) two or three times before he answered, then he clambered over us and talked all the way up the aisle as he made his way to the lobby.

If I had a cell phone, it wouldn’t be on when I was in a theater, or pretty much any other public place. Anyway, I wouldn’t let it ring during tense dramatic moments in the dark with a few dozen people around. That’s just wrong.

Either this is the beginning of another series of storms that will end up sinking us further into the muddy mire, or it’s one of those boomers that blows through in a hurry and leaves us high and (more or less) dry the next day. Tim offered to bring me a load of gravel for the driveway. I was supposed to go to local suppliers and price the stuff today, but I had no intention of doing that, even before the storm. All this rain was just the excuse I needed to stay home as planned (and as necessary).