My kids are loving our temporary lake. A pond down the street spilt over and shot a bunch of ginormous fish to our front yard–at any given moment, Merrick can be seen at the edge of the flood water, feet submerged, skinny little legs splattered with red mud, fishing pole in hand, as calm and as happy as any 7-year-old boy has ever been–the very definition of the phrase “lovin’ life.”
We’ve had wild ducks and cranes and catfish and carp. We’ve seen glorious sunsets reflecting on the water from our bedroom windows. And the grass is green, green, green, as far as the eye can see. What grass is not covered by water, anyway.
There is a downside to this adventure that is being flooded in–we can’t get the family car down the driveway, so my husband, after some prompting from our neighbors, fortunately, left his car parked on the road before things got too wet and wild. At first it was really fun walking 100 meters through freezing, thigh-high water; but after about two trips down the driveway in soggy rain boots to inspect ditches or retrieve groceries, we’ve all got nasty cases of bloody trench foot (feet?).
Yesterday afternoon we had a minor panic attack when water stopped flowing into our yard and began GUSHING–but a few friends rushed over with fresh eyes and strong backs to help us locate and solve the problem. Have I ever mentioned that we know some good people?
Today our pond is smaller and tomorrow it will be smaller; I’d like to leave the house by Wednesday even though Merrick would be content if we never leave at all–he’s already suggested we forgo grocery shopping in favor of fishing. “Out of food? No problem. Let me scoop you up a fifteen-pound carp.”
We are fine. We have everything we need, including neosporin and band aids. We don’t mind getting wet. And the views are incredible.