After The Storm

On a Wednesday evening I noticed with alarm that all TV programs were being interrupted with weather alerts warning of violent storms approaching. They listed many of the closest settlements to me as the epicenter. Indeed, when the rainstorms arrived, it felt like we were in a battle zone, with lightning strikes so close that the house shook. It poured rain all night long. The next morning, I saw wet, sodden, muddy fields everywhere:

There is usually no pond here, but rather a local man's carefully groomed lawn:

Hay fields were surrounded by what looked like moats:

The local creek had risen over its banks:

The ditch in my neighbors' pasture had become a torrent:

The ditch along the road and across from my house had filled and was backing up. The culverts could not carry water fast enough:

And at the other end of those culverts, water spewed out under great pressure:

Tractors and other equipment had been left in the fields:

The ground was so wet that I guessed they wouldn't try to move their tractors until it dried out lest they tear up the soil:

All along the roads were flooded sections which brought field work to a stop:

The poor corn fields had been flooded through a good part of June, and now they were flooded again. Smaller farmers, who couldn't afford extensive drainage systems in their fields, seemed to be having a very rough year for corn:

The St. Regis River had widened considerably and, in spite of its calm look, was rushing headlong toward the St. Lawrence. I left my own tractor parked in the barn and began waiting for things to dry out: