Walk outside and you hear it everywhere. The sound of water running. Burbling and percolating in the grass. Squishing out of the earth. Swallowing up your shoes.

We’re past the sponge stage — where the ground is thick and heavy with water-laden soil. Now the rainfall pools on every surface — the driveway, beside the barn, in the fields.

The horses no longer amble over to their water trough for a drink. Now they just drop their heads and start slurping from where they stand.

The river near the farm has spread like lava across the woods and fields. In a marvelous muddy mass, it creeps silently toward the bridge. Another four feet and it’ll swallow up the pavement. Double lines and all.

At sunset we drove down to the river to assess its progress and the massive log jams.

Here’s a parking lot frequented by hunters, fishermen and civil war buffs.

In the end, we cut our river recon short when we ran out of road. Literally.
According to the NOAA website, the river hit historic flood levels three times in the 1930s (before the bridge was built), and four times in the 1970s… plus one odd-ball year: 1996.

So, are we looking at another series of epic storms and radical floods in the 2010’s?