It came in the middle of the night–twelve inches of torrential rain.
The pounding of the June ninth downpour at times sounded louder than the rumbles of thunder and cracks of lightening.
In the darkness, I could not see that the pipe that routed water under my house had clogged with cedar needles until it was too late. Our family room was slightly flooded but we were lucky. We only lost a room of carpet and a few books. I was sick and tired of looking at that fourteen-year-old floor covering so it was a blessing in disguise. But the books broke my heart.
Around town, matters were a lot worse. All day we heard helicopters overhead rushing to rescue people from roofs and treetops. Local radio station KNBT 92.1 FM spent the morning taking one call after another with listener reports of conditions.
We heard stories of vain attempts to outrun the water of this flash flood. And one man died, swept away by the unstoppable force of the water.
Some of the damage is a quick fix. We piled our carpet by the curb where a City of New Braunfels truck will pick it up and haul it away. Others stacked up sodden furniture. Trash can lids awaited pick up with bulging lids and distended sides.
But for others, clean-up is a long process. The city crews are busy in the parks with no clear idea of when they’ll be open again, River outfitters who looked to a summer filled with the prospect of an excellent year now see their season ended. Some residents lost their homes and all the contents and now need to jump start their lives anew.
And in my garden, flowers bloom in glorious profusion–grateful for the rain and oblivious to our pain.