It was a long, grey, stormy day in which torrents of rain fell hour after hour. Puddles swelled into small lakes in the streets. There was no point in getting the mail. Each momentary letting up was quickly followed by sheets of rain cascading from the sky. It had been predicted to end around 5 pm, and indeed small patches of brightness blew in and right on out, chased by more, though shorter, bursts of rain.
In one of those brief intermissions, I caught sight of the Delaware River at the end of my block. Lying between her banks, as there often is in damp weather, was a cloud. No fog brushed the earth, just a cloud exhaling on top of the waters. I ran down with my camera – it was nearly gone by the time I got there, but still visible.
And then came the wind. No sooner had the rain stopped and pushed in an obligatory patch or two of sun, than extraordinarily high speed winds whipped through the trees, dislodging anything not secured on the ground. Electrical failures began switching off lights all over the area. I was thankful – mine stayed on. Between the rain and the winds, the Delaware was predicted to reach flood stage at some points along its banks nearby.
Here, late Sunday afternoon, the sun was heading down in the blue western sky and the Delaware rushed madly by. Brown-ish blue, the water was very high and its speed dangerous. But in all its moods, whether languidly dreaming or racing to the sea, the river is a richness and a gift to be near.
Just in … my friend who had been up visiting last year had also taken a beautiful photo of the river. It was summer and the Delaware was in her glory.
