Are We There Yet?

Yesterday, August 28th at 2pm, I listened from my window to the water rushing below us along the Whetstone Brook. The dog was aching to get out into the storm, so I pulled on my raincoat and headed for the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw as we loped down Crosby St. in a veil of steady rain. What we call a brook was now a raging river. It stopped me dead in my tracks. Bear did her business and we hurried back up the hill to the house. There, Stephen and our friend Rita (rescued from her own flooded home in Guilford) both jumped from their chairs to see something "really amazing...you have to come now!" Back we went, down the hill, along with other small groups of curious neighbors. Before you could even see the water, you heard it. The roar of water crashing over the banks up into the steeply wooded embankment was awesome. Halfway down the hill, we stopped and gawked as a large tree was dislodged from its purchase on the bank and thrown like a toy into ...