I guess I have water on the brain, er mind today.
On Wednesday, the forecast on every news site screamed out severe weather beginning in the afternoon and lasting into the evening hours.
We’ve been busy at work this past week, and I struggled to juggle everything to get it finished before that severe weather arrived, lest an electrical current would give me permanently curly hair, while my hands were still placed on the home keys.
Luckily that bad storm coming from Chicago just meandered along, fizzled and died, and all our area got was a whole lot of rain and a few thunder boomers which waited until the wee hours of this morning to arrive.
After the alarm rang, I turned it off and listened intently for raindrops, half wanting to hear that pitter patter on the patio roof so I could snuggle back under the blanket, versus getting up early so I had time to walk before I had to get back here for work. Well, it was raining lightly – oh … decisions, decisions.
I grabbed my radio headphones at my bedside, expecting to hear news about power outages or torrential flooding from the aftermath of the torrential rain, but, instead the news was chockfull of the terrible tanker accident that happened about 3:00 a.m., after the driver lost control of his rig, struck the median wall and flipped over from the southbound to northbound side of the expressway. The tanker quickly exploded, caught fire and soon 8,000 gallons of gasoline had trickled from the tank, spread quickly onto the pavement and seeped into the grass and sewer system. The driver was burned over 90% of his body.
This horrific accident happened about three miles from where I live.
In between the grisly details, a quick weather forecast promised the sun would show its face by a.m. drive time, so rather reluctantly I got up.
The reporters breathlessly gave on-scene accounts of the accident and I listened while I made, then had breakfast, and all the while I was shaking my head over the enormity of the incident. Lincoln Park’s Fire Chief was interviewed and said thankfully the gasoline had not infiltrated the residential water supply. Well, gulp … I had never thought of that, but it gave me cause to pause … especially after having had a glass of water, a cup of coffee and downed a bowl of oatmeal. Yikes!
By the time I finished up breakfast and got dressed, the rain was indeed over, and a stiff breeze had blown the pavement dry, much like the blower at the car wash … how handy was that? One big whoosh and it was dry enough to go for a walk.
Besides blowing any vestiges of the rain away, the wind must have erased the rainbow, so I had to settle for a plain blue sky with the occasional puffy and fluffy cloud drifting by.
I headed toward the River, and, at the footbridge dividing Lincoln Park and Wyandotte, I gave a sideways glance toward the water to check if anything interesting was in there … a few turtles were nipping the surface but they disappeared back into the water once they saw me – the humongous human peering into their domain. A single female mallard duck darted out from beneath the bridge and startled me because I remembered fellow walker Mary telling me yesterday she saw a huge muskrat as she crossed the bridge but he quickly raced for cover behind some reeds once he caught sight of her. Well, there is no muskrat love for me – I was just happy to see Mrs. Duck this morning.
And then I saw it … abandoned in a corner, tucked amongst the reeds … a lowly basketball bobbing quietly in its watery grave. Where did it come from? How did this ball end up here? It looked to be in fine form with no visible bashes or bangs to its pebbly exterior – nope, this was no deflated ball. I immediately thought of the volleyball “Wilson” from the film “Castaway”, but this ball was devoid of anything remarkable, and, it was, of course, missing that unmistakable handprint face.
Will that basketball still be there tomorrow or will it pull out of its hideaway and head down toward the Detroit River, where we will find it bobbing amongst the buoys and birds swooping down for a tasty tidbit or two?
Perhaps my boss will see it as he glides by on his steamship ride out of Detroit to Alpena, via Cleveland tomorrow, so perhaps I’ll shoot him an e-mail to suggest he scoop it up and we’ll try to return it to its rightful owner.