Spring runoff
11/03/14 05:35
The weather in the hills has the capacity to surprise, but the weather forecasters are getting pretty good at giving us a hint of what is happening. Just as predicted, I woke to a bit of snow on the ground this morning after a beautiful weekend. Yesterday we were outside in our shirtsleeves, reveling in one of the first jacket-free days of early spring. This morning the world is white again. It isn’t supposed to last. Some areas in the high hills may get more snow than we are likely to have, but the rest of the week is supposed to be sunny with highs in the 50’s and a slight chance of rain on Saturday.
The good weather is a blessing as the folks at the church are preparing for a rummage sale on Friday and Saturday. The added confusion of concrete construction around the front of the church and a couple of large funerals looming means that we’ll be busy. Not having to deal with a lot of snow will help.
It looks like the Forest Service crews got the weather right. There was a 60-acre controlled burn near Pactola Reservoir yesterday. The snow overnight should help to cool down the hot spots and keep burning to the assigned territory. I understand the reasons for the burns, but can’t help feeling a bit of alarm whenever I see a smoke plume over the hills.
The hills are fairly unique in terms of how water is handled. We have a tendency to have some big storms with lots of moisture, like the big blizzard last October. We can have similar wet storms in the spring and have seen considerable snowfall even into May. The hills get more benefit from the snow when it melts slowly or when it follows the pattern of snow and melt that we often see. When the moisture is released slowly, more of it penetrates into the soil and some even makes it to the aquifer to replenish our underground stores.
But we also have seen plenty of big thundershowers with lots of rain that runs off. The steep terrain doesn’t hold the water and it tends to rush toward lower ground in a sudden burst of energy. Flash flooding seems to be a normal part of the cycle of weather around here. The ability of forecasters to give more accurate predictions and the preparations for flooding that include lots of green space in the center of town in the low-lying areas along the creek all help to minimize the damage. Folks around here remember all too well the flood of 1972 with its death and destruction. We hope we have learned a better way of living with the harsh realities of nature.
We’ve seen enough big floods since ’72 that we know the power of water.
I associate water with spring weather. The place where I spend my childhood summers is on the inside of a curve of the river. In the late summer, when the river was low, there was an area of rocks wider than the river that we had to cross to get to the water. In the spring, the entire area filled with water and often the water would seep up into the lawn and other low-lying areas. High spring run off was part of the cycle of life alongside the river. In the spring when the river was running at its highest, we often would see massive cottonwood trees that had been washed away by the water. Sometimes they would get hung up on something and divert the water into new areas. We also noticed how the stream bed changed from year to year.
There is a big difference between the way that water flows in places with lots of vegetation as opposed to how it runs in the desert. In the dry places, when it does rain, the rain tends to go in straight lines. In the mountains, the runoff tends to be forced to wander around vegetation and rocks and other obstructions. The more water wanders around the more can sink in and be absorbed. In the desert it is can be completely dry an hour after a rain shower.
Landscape architects know about the path and pattern of water as if flows across a property. They often will take advantage of the topography and add plants that cause the water to meander as it crosses an area. This allows the plants to absorb more of the water than it it flows in a straight line and travels fast. They call the planning of such watercourses “induced meandering.”
I recently read a short meditation by Erin Dunigan that compared the meandering of water to the process of spiritual growth. Often we are in such a rush to get from one thing to another that we choose the shortest paths and go through our lives at the quickest pace. The rush of the holiday seasons often feels this way in the church. As we get ready for all of the services of Christmas and Easter, we are working constantly and trying to get as much done as possible in a short amount of time.
Perhaps, however, we are able to absorb more of the meaning of our faith when we have a bit of induced meandering. Slowing down and making time for prayer and contemplation can be deeply meaningful when we step aside from the rushing. Lent offers the possibility of a season of replenishment in contrast to the rapid pace of other seasons. We take a full six weeks to prepare. We focus on our spiritual lives.
And when we think we have everything mapped out, life throws us obstacles and forces us to change the path of our flowing. Last week was filled with the need to get out of the office to spend time with people who were experiencing crises. This week promises more of those kinds of visits. It isn’t the time in the lite of the church for well-designed schedules and rigid appointments.
I believe, however, that this “induced meandering” offers great spiritual promise. Maybe I need to slow down in order to take in the richness of the season.
The good weather is a blessing as the folks at the church are preparing for a rummage sale on Friday and Saturday. The added confusion of concrete construction around the front of the church and a couple of large funerals looming means that we’ll be busy. Not having to deal with a lot of snow will help.
It looks like the Forest Service crews got the weather right. There was a 60-acre controlled burn near Pactola Reservoir yesterday. The snow overnight should help to cool down the hot spots and keep burning to the assigned territory. I understand the reasons for the burns, but can’t help feeling a bit of alarm whenever I see a smoke plume over the hills.
The hills are fairly unique in terms of how water is handled. We have a tendency to have some big storms with lots of moisture, like the big blizzard last October. We can have similar wet storms in the spring and have seen considerable snowfall even into May. The hills get more benefit from the snow when it melts slowly or when it follows the pattern of snow and melt that we often see. When the moisture is released slowly, more of it penetrates into the soil and some even makes it to the aquifer to replenish our underground stores.
But we also have seen plenty of big thundershowers with lots of rain that runs off. The steep terrain doesn’t hold the water and it tends to rush toward lower ground in a sudden burst of energy. Flash flooding seems to be a normal part of the cycle of weather around here. The ability of forecasters to give more accurate predictions and the preparations for flooding that include lots of green space in the center of town in the low-lying areas along the creek all help to minimize the damage. Folks around here remember all too well the flood of 1972 with its death and destruction. We hope we have learned a better way of living with the harsh realities of nature.
We’ve seen enough big floods since ’72 that we know the power of water.
I associate water with spring weather. The place where I spend my childhood summers is on the inside of a curve of the river. In the late summer, when the river was low, there was an area of rocks wider than the river that we had to cross to get to the water. In the spring, the entire area filled with water and often the water would seep up into the lawn and other low-lying areas. High spring run off was part of the cycle of life alongside the river. In the spring when the river was running at its highest, we often would see massive cottonwood trees that had been washed away by the water. Sometimes they would get hung up on something and divert the water into new areas. We also noticed how the stream bed changed from year to year.
There is a big difference between the way that water flows in places with lots of vegetation as opposed to how it runs in the desert. In the dry places, when it does rain, the rain tends to go in straight lines. In the mountains, the runoff tends to be forced to wander around vegetation and rocks and other obstructions. The more water wanders around the more can sink in and be absorbed. In the desert it is can be completely dry an hour after a rain shower.
Landscape architects know about the path and pattern of water as if flows across a property. They often will take advantage of the topography and add plants that cause the water to meander as it crosses an area. This allows the plants to absorb more of the water than it it flows in a straight line and travels fast. They call the planning of such watercourses “induced meandering.”
I recently read a short meditation by Erin Dunigan that compared the meandering of water to the process of spiritual growth. Often we are in such a rush to get from one thing to another that we choose the shortest paths and go through our lives at the quickest pace. The rush of the holiday seasons often feels this way in the church. As we get ready for all of the services of Christmas and Easter, we are working constantly and trying to get as much done as possible in a short amount of time.
Perhaps, however, we are able to absorb more of the meaning of our faith when we have a bit of induced meandering. Slowing down and making time for prayer and contemplation can be deeply meaningful when we step aside from the rushing. Lent offers the possibility of a season of replenishment in contrast to the rapid pace of other seasons. We take a full six weeks to prepare. We focus on our spiritual lives.
And when we think we have everything mapped out, life throws us obstacles and forces us to change the path of our flowing. Last week was filled with the need to get out of the office to spend time with people who were experiencing crises. This week promises more of those kinds of visits. It isn’t the time in the lite of the church for well-designed schedules and rigid appointments.
I believe, however, that this “induced meandering” offers great spiritual promise. Maybe I need to slow down in order to take in the richness of the season.