Rain
It's been raining a lot lately. The Pearl River is straining her banks. The chocolate brown waters swirl and gurgle as they churn slowly past.
She's roughly half a foot from the normal bank, at which point she'll start to spread out into a wide behemoth over the flood plain. It's an awesome sight.
There are several houses and cabins on stilts near the River where I live. I used to think it was because the River would flood occasionally, but that's only partly true. There's a large reservoir that's fed by the Pearl. It sits just north of Jackson. As is often true of large reservoirs, the houses near it are some of the nicest and most expensive ones in town. And since they're near the shoreline, it doesn't take much water before the leather sofa is floating in the living room.
How to fix the problem? Apparently, they open up the damn that holds the reservoir water. Which sends it rushing down the Pearl, covering everything remotely near it in a deluge. And since the structures south of the Pearl are worth far less, it's considered a good fix. (Way before Hurricane Katrina, the people of New Orleans did this, flooding several poor parishes to save their city.) The people who live south of the reservoir figured this out, and built with stilts.
I don't think it's going to happen this time, but I think about it every time the river rises. The houses are simple and bucolic, testaments to a time when shelter meant little more than a roof. And they are surely worth the attention of my fumbling brush and awkward pen.
She's roughly half a foot from the normal bank, at which point she'll start to spread out into a wide behemoth over the flood plain. It's an awesome sight.
There are several houses and cabins on stilts near the River where I live. I used to think it was because the River would flood occasionally, but that's only partly true. There's a large reservoir that's fed by the Pearl. It sits just north of Jackson. As is often true of large reservoirs, the houses near it are some of the nicest and most expensive ones in town. And since they're near the shoreline, it doesn't take much water before the leather sofa is floating in the living room.How to fix the problem? Apparently, they open up the damn that holds the reservoir water. Which sends it rushing down the Pearl, covering everything remotely near it in a deluge. And since the structures south of the Pearl are worth far less, it's considered a good fix. (Way before Hurricane Katrina, the people of New Orleans did this, flooding several poor parishes to save their city.) The people who live south of the reservoir figured this out, and built with stilts.
I don't think it's going to happen this time, but I think about it every time the river rises. The houses are simple and bucolic, testaments to a time when shelter meant little more than a roof. And they are surely worth the attention of my fumbling brush and awkward pen.
When we lived in Indiana there was an area in northern Indianapolis called Ravenswood like that. It was originally a fishing camp area but became permanent residences. Most of the house there when I last visited would have a cement block garage at ground level with the house on top. If the ground level flooded it could be hosed out. The one I always got a giggle out of was a neighborhood bar there. It was ground level but rigged for flood with all power overhead, etc. When they'd get two or three feet of water the bar would be packed. Rowboats tied out front, people with waders patronizing the place. They had more business during flood than normal just because of the novelty of the situation.
Posted by
Fish-2 |
7:33 AM
What is/was the name of it? I'm guessing it was clever. At this moment I'm attempting to decide what I would name it, if given the chance. It's a toss up between Any Port in a Storm and All Washed Up.
Posted by
Yorick |
9:39 PM
I haven't a clue - too many years passed. Maybe "Soggy Bottom Bar and Grille" or "The Wade Inn".
Posted by
Fish-2 |
9:58 PM