It’s amazing how much water the ground will hold, but it’s also amazing where that water goes when the ground won’t hold any more. The drainage ditches on my street gave it up to the street itself, and I found myself driving through standing water on the way to the post office this morning. (But not on the way back, since I took a different route.)

As you know, my driveway slopes down toward the garage, and as always, no matter what preventive steps I take, the garage flooded after last night’s massive storm. The driveway itself is a sloppy mess, and in order to get to it from my front door I have to wade through a puddle. That’s because the low point of the walkway between house and drive is the only part of it with no paving stones.

And, of course, as happens every wet winter, my toilet isn’t flushing properly and my shower drains slowly. Life in the countryside is one adventure after another this time of year. At least we haven’t yet had the power go out here. I don’t understand it, because my house is usually the first to lose power, but so far this time it’s everyone else’s problem. No roof leaks (yet), either.

It’s actually the sounds of the storm that bring it to life. The rumbling thunder claps. The rain blown sideways and peppering the window like buckshot. The wind roaring through the trees. At one point today I had to go outside and check to make sure nothing had fallen on the rooftop. From the sound, it could have been an oak branch, or maybe a local bird of prey had dropped a baby elephant on me. (It was nothing, though, apparently.)