Yup, you got it. It's not just raining, it's not just pouring, it's flooding. Water, standing in the yard. Deep water.
Part of the problem, naturally, is that I live in Louisiana. All of Louisiana is under the water table, all the time. You can pour a glass of water in the yard and it'll puddle, because the water table is about half of an earthworm underneath the grass. The cicadas come up out of the ground from their seventeen year lifespan wearing tiny scuba gear. Birds that eat insects living in the grass usually do so wearing snorkels and masks. When replanting sod you dig it up from one place, move it to the new spot, then wring it out before you replant it. People around the world were astounded when Katrina and Rita burst the levees down south. People in Louisian were not surprised, because the only question on their minds was not "Will it happen" but "Is it going to make it to here, and do I need to get the motor reattached to the pirogue?"
It's raining outside. It's been raining all day. It's been raining like a blind cow pissing on a flat rock all day is how my father would say it, and he'd be right. It's a frog strangler out there. And it's coming down so hard so fast that it's not going anywhere, so everywhere you look there's standing water.
Tonight? A freeze. Shreveport? They're expecting snow. So is most of east Texas and Arkansas, probably. What are we going to get, here on the buckle of the boot? More rain. I think the topography of the state is such that everything from below Ruston is hot and tropical, and everything from there up is not. Ruston gets snow. We get rain. Shreveport gets freezing rain. We get rain. Arkansas gets fourteen inches of perfect powder. We get three feet of rain. On top of the previous rain, and all the rainwater that comes to us down the Red and Mississippi rivers.
The part that really gets me? My grapes are going to freeze. I have to cover them up tonight, preferably with old towels to keep the brand new tiny white buds from freezing and killing the plant. If it doesn't stop raining, though, it's going to be bad, because as much as I love the potential that my grapes represent I don't see myself standing out there tonight in a big overcoat and my gumboots holding an umbrella over each and every dry-towel covered grape.
For very long, at least.