Heavy Rain

What a difference a deluge makes. The river by the end of the summer is a weary, nonchalant thing. It meanders, it pokes along, doesn't seem to take an interest in anything. Birds come and fish, tourists take pictures, fish jump and the water continues to trickle over dam much like a leaky faucet. It's uninterested and, for the most part, it's uninteresting. The dam stands solidly, dark and bored.

Then we get a heavy rain, usually it's the remnants of some post hurricane or tropical storm. That perks the dam up. All of a sudden, it's got more water than it can handle. I can hear the water thunder over it in a continuous and rhythmic drone. Under the dull roar and splashes, the rhythmic drone sounds like heartbeat. And all the dam was made to do, hold the water back, is pushed to its limit. While the water will not be held back, the dam stand firm. The river expands and a new edge is made. The pristine clear water, tinted only by the sky's reflection turns a frothy red as the river bed churns.

After two or three days, the water is spent and the creek goes back to its placid self. The dam lets a trickle of water over its edge. It has done its job, the houses and the road nearby were safe from flood water.

Before And After Hurricane Danny.