The local run runneth over.

Into each life some rain must fall. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Well, it’s been an interesting few weeks in northern Virginia. First the earthquake, then the hurricane, and now the flooding. Let the political jokes commence.

While my area of town hasn’t had the drastic flooding that some areas around D.C. are suffering, it was bad enough that my husband had to try three routes into the neighborhood (of three), before he could get home, and now we’re stuck until the water recedes.

My kids are excited because school is canceled. First week and they already want a day off. Jeez.

Given my history with natural disasters, I’m sure you won’t be surprised to find that this isn’t the first time I’ve been trapped in a flood, but you might be surprised to learn that the last one was in Arizona. Tucson, 1983, to be exact. The worst flood in the city’s history, which caused $64 million in damages and killed four people.*

All that with only 6-7 inches of rain over a five day period.

In a place where the ground is so dry that it can’t absorb the water, the desert floor acts like concrete, funneling water over land and filling the dry riverbeds and washes in, well, a flash. The washes didn’t necessarily overflow—though they ran high—instead, the banks crumbled sweeping away whatever sat on the land above.

So, here I am, trapped again by high water. But safe, surrounded by my family, and on high ground.

That’s all that really matters.

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*Pima County Regional Flood Control District (http://rfcd.pima.gov/outreach/flooding/)