Low Country, High Water

The second commission piece is finished! The Low Country Project can begin! First, I must describe another “low country” type of experience. You probably all have read about the recent rains in the Northwest that have brought high waters and flooding; more rain than some people have ever seen. Many homes have been lost to the Sandy River in Oregon and many in Washington also.

Last weekend while enjoying a get-away with a friend, Judy, at the Oregon Coast, I experienced “low country living” up close and personal. Judy’s house is on the Nehalem River and has about 5 feet of grass between the bank and the house. For the first couple of days, we watched the wind and pounding rain from the big window that looks out onto the river, enjoying several movies, and good food and a great bottle of cabernet.

By Monday morning the river overflowed its edges and the current was astonishingly fast. The Nehalem has a reputation for flooding the nearby dairy farms, and this particular day we watched the water lapping onto the grass in front of the house. For 3 hours we watched things float or disappear; the stack of fire wood, a slowly drowning yellow flower, a cow pie, and the patio. By this time, the deluge had been pelting down for 48 hours. Considering the high tide, which was 9.3 at noon, and factoring in the many inches of rain on top of that, we should have predicted the coming events.

Soon we decided to plan our escape. By the time we packed, and began loading the car, the water was rushing to the front side of the house, and I mean rushing. The storm door would have lost its hinges if not for Judy holding a white knuckle grip to keep it connected to the house. The cold water saturated our shoes and socks as we waded to load the car; all the while fearing the tailpipe would fill with water too. Then we would really be sunk. The long driveway to Tideland Road flowed like a newly formed river as Judy’s hat, which the wind had whipped off, bobbed in the current like that lonely cow pie.

Except for wet and cold feet, we evacuated safely. The drive home proved to be colorful also: downed trees, emergency vehicles, overflowing rivers and creeks, detours, a four-car rear-ender, and a Ford Taurus munched by a semi-truck. Four hours later as I walked into my house, my husband, Dave handed me a martini, very dry.

I look forward to working in my quiet studio over the next few months on my real Low Country project. Let’s hope the weather calms down a little.