Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Cute Shoes, Pantyhose, and the Parking Lot Lake



            Our state is officially experiencing a drought. Even if it wasn’t official, it still would be in drought. It’s not very noticeable where I live. Up the Yakima Valley and elsewhere it is. Some reservoirs are low. But ….
            Last week we had a cloud burst, an intense rain that made the streets little rivers. I was at my ‘other job’ and watched it out my office window. I like rain. Not so much if I’m out in it, but I like to watch it. Rain makes me feel … content. It says God loves the planet, even if he doesn’t love all who live on it. So … anyway … it let up about two in the morning. My shift ended an hour later.
            Employees park in the back and enter through double doors near the kitchen. As I reached the doors, the rain restarted. I was unprepared. Rain wasn’t forecast for our area. It was supposed to fall to our east, and my uncle tells me it did. Copiously. (He lives there.) There is a remedy for most of life’s little problems. I rummaged in the kitchen supplies, nabbing a large plastic bag to hold over my head. I got another for one of the front desk clerks who was staring out the door glass, distress written on her face.
            “Here,” I said, demonstrating my version of an impromptu rain cover.
            “Thanks,” she said.
            We made a mad dash to the parking area. It’s covered. So we were protected there. But … we parked near a drain. It was blocked and our cars were isolated in a small lake, about six or seven inches deep.
            “What do we do?” she asked.
            Let me describe this. A few steps from our parking spaces is the external electrical service, big transformers and such. (I don’t really know what all that stuff is.) They’re caged within a chain-link fence; the fence has slide-in panels (Prolly have a name but I don’t know it.) to block the view. You’ve probably seen similar. There is a space between the cage and the back fence. If you stand there, no one will see you. I stepped into the gap, kicked off my newish shoes, pulled off my panty hose, and said, “We wade.”


            The water was cold. But holding my newish shoes (Black leather. Italian. Cute shoes are a way of life.) and with water way over my feet, prolly half way to my butt, I made it to my car.
            Friend Frontdeskie, hesitated, then copied me. She shivered mid-wade, but made it to her car.
            The drain is fixed now, rooted out by a company that does that sort of thing.
            There isn’t a moral lesson here. Just an adventure.
            Unfortunately, the rain won’t cure the drought. There’s almost no snow pack in the Cascades. It’ll take a huge snowfall this winter or Noah’s flood to improve things.
           
            The River is lower than usual, but not really awful here. Where it shows is in the small stream that crosses our pasture. It starts as a glacial runoff, and it is very, very empty – probably a third of its usual water flow. Even the little green frogs have left it.
            I found a calf wandering down the access road this morning. No-one’s raising cattle near us these days. I have no clue where it came from. (No ear tag.) It’s in our pasture. I called the Sheriff. No word yet. I don’t really like kine of any sort other than to eat them, but he’s a cute little thing. He slobbers. I have no clue what to do with him if the owner doesn’t claim him. Call the brand inspector I guess, and get him off my hands.
           
            I thought O. Reader’s post was worth more than one comment. Just my opinion.

2 comments:

Griffin said...

Is there any video footage from the parking lot? :-)

roberto said...

Photo of the calf?