We stayed over night on Lonesome Hill, and for a good part of the night, I laid awake enjoying the howling winds. When I was a kid, I lived on a hill very similar to Lonesome Hill, and the winds used to howl over the surrounding hills. I loved that sound – it was so peaceful and comforting. Later on, we moved to a valley, and I somehow forgot about the howling winds.
So, when I woke up during the night and heard that familiar, cozy sound, I laid awake and listened for a long time. The howling was so loud, that I didn’t even notice the constant droning of the rain on the metal roof.
In the morning, I was shocked to be awakened by a phone call from my mom, telling me that my hometown was flooding again, and that my grandparents (for one) were out of power, the bridge near their house was threatening to break, and that our house was in danger of flooding.
I was ready to pack and leave right away, but we soon learned that the creeks on either side of Eric and Paula were flooded, and that we wouldn’t be able to leave until they subsided.
By the time we had confirmed this fact, and decided to make the best of the situation by going out to take photos of their creek, the waters had already gone down substantially.