Dear Aunt Catherine,
There was no walk today, nor was there one yesterday. Instead, I had the longest Friday I can ever remember. Rain had been pelting down for twenty-four hours and was forecast to continue for another couple of days. The main water tank was overflowing from the top and from the downpipe, gushing across the old paving towards the carport downpipe and its energetic expulsions of rain water.
By 11 o’clock in the morning the carport with my trusty little red Toyota Corolla sitting steadfastly under it, was flooded with water at least a few inches deep and rising fast and furiously towards my back door. At this point I had already dealt with a leak in my living room ceiling and unsuccessfully tried to find a plumber to come and fix it. Not to worry, I was told, someone would come on Monday! It was only a tiny leak, but it was persistent, dripping close to the piano. A basin strategically placed on top of a bath mat was collecting the drips, but who knows how soaked things were becoming elsewhere in the ceiling itself, I wondered. Then I realised I could cause a fuse unless I turned off the air conditioner at the main switch as the unit was sitting in the flood water close to the back door.
Enough is enough, I told myself. I need help! As I searched for the phone number of Queensland’s State Emergency Services (SES) it occurred to me that this was the first time in my life I had had to call the SES. Realising this fact, I sent up a little prayer of gratitude to the drenching heavens and more calmly proceeded to call the number. I gave my contact details and was told volunteers would come with sandbags when they could.
By mid-afternoon, I was becoming very jittery so I called the SES again only to be told my name hadn’t even reached the list of people needing help. No sandbags would be coming today! Then I remembered that the local hardware store sold sandbags. When I rang the store, I was told it was about to close. Yes, they did stock sandbags but I would have to fill them myself and somehow get them home across a creek that was probably flooded and then heft them out of the car and lay them in perfect alignment against the back door. No, that wasn’t going to happen.
I had to do something to block the water, but what? The good thing was that the force of the rain had waned somewhat and most of the flooded area had subsided. I could also see from the living room window, facing north, that the water was actually running across the driveway, down the hill and no damage at all was visible on the rest of the property. The rain had eased off enough for me to go out the front door onto the verandah seeking inspiration.
As I wandered aimlessly along the front verandah something urged me to pause a moment, as I gazed blankly at the two large white pots snuggled up in each corner. Oh, yes, they would be good for holding up something against the back doorway. I need something impermeable – yes, just like that door mat lying there soaking in the rain.
So it was, then, that I built a barricade of mats, pots and plants against the back door. After tucking a bundle of large towels against the indoor doorway, I decided I could do no more to assay fears of the house flooding.
In order to quieten my mind and pacify my soul I settled down at my desk with pen and paper.
Water, water everywhere, far too much to drink
Gushing, pounding, pelting, far too loud to think.
Every doormat’s sodden and soaked, far too wet to use
Even the AC’s turned off in case it blows a fuse.
Water, water everywhere far too close to sleep
Watching what the radar says, leaves me in a heap.
Every lull brings some hope, far too great to miss
Every hour changes that, far too true to dismiss
There’s a lot to be said for saying your prayers before bed, I discovered. I did get to sleep, with intermittent wakings. Soft rain was all I heard.
Daylight brought relief – all was well at the back door!