Fronts

It has been an unusually wet fall in the upper midwest this year. Blame it on global warming, climate change or God's hand in nature, it matters not much to me. In this part of the country we are accustomed to taking whatever we are dealt.  In fact, I think we take a rather perverse delight in the mercurial swings  of unstable weather patterns. Man vs. nature. Only the creatively strong thrive in such a habitat.

A couple of weeks ago, a storm front parked itself atop our fair city and dumped over four inches of rain on all things living and otherwise. One of our school parking lots is built on low ground next to a retaining pond. My vehicle, along with many others, contentedly stable up in the lot each morning until the final bell rings. That particular day, the rains came down and the floods inched up. Finally, the message went out that all vehicles needed to be moved, stat. The retaining pond was overflowing and a new river was forming.

The reality of teaching is that one cannot leave twenty-eight squirmy middle schoolers unattended or it's Lord of the Flies revisited. Fortunately, my dear colleague ran into my room and covered my class so I could rescue my vehicle. I grabbed a jacket (not rain proof) and waded out to my vehicle. The water rushed up toward my knees as I sloshed to my car door. Thankfully, the water was just below the door's threshold so no water entered the vehicle, other than from my soaked being. I drove up to high ground a block away and hustled back to my classroom through the pouring rain.  As I entered the classroom, I made an attempt to compose myself. Dripping water from my hair, skirt and jacket created a puddle everywhere I stopped. Even my best days are bad hair days so let it be said, I was a sad sight. My colleague dashed out to her vehicle and encountered the same scenario so at least misery had company. My students gave me assessing looks and I stated, "And you thought I couldn't look worse." They nervously giggled and secretly hoped they would never get old and have to run through rainstorms.

The next day, I pulled my vehicle into the same parking lot, in the same low corner, near the same retaining pond. Some part of my brain scolded me for not learning my lesson. That was overridden by the standard midwestern mantra, "It could have been worse." My vehicle was not harmed, my clothes dried out, my jacket dripped out the last of its moisture and my sandals lived to see another day.

Since that storm, several more fronts have ground their way through our area. Some brought warm, muggy gulf air to remind us that summer is not quite through with us. Others brought more rain. And a recent cold front blew in with flying leaves and Oz-like winds. Another reminder that predictability is not usually a word used to describe our region.

Soon enough, I will be toting snow boots and a window scraper as I snug into my parking lot space. I will be quoting another favorite mantra, "Variety is the spice of life."

Let's hope the winter doesn't get too spicy.