It's Thanksgiving morning. We lie here in bed, reading about the Mumbai attacks in the New York Times and watching the rain through the French doors that lead to our back patio.
Despite yesterday's flood, I'm thankful for the rain, much needed in this parched area so prone to the kind of fires that we had just a week or so ago. We have enjoyed a good soaking, these past two days, and the dark clouds still surround us.
I went down to the basement a while ago and found it dry, except in a few areas that had not yet dried out from yesterday's disaster. Our architect and contractor, inspecting the situation, had recommended digging out a trench along the front of the house, to make a channel for water coming down off the roof. Thus far, that seems to have achieved the desired effect. When the rain moves on, we'll need to be thinking about a permanent concrete channel, or "swale"--a rather medieval-sounding word, I thought--to solve the problem. Oh, and another swale down along the north side of the house, at this moment a river of mud.
It never ends, does it? To own a house is to have to deal with these surprises. Still, on this Thanksgiving Day, we cannot but be grateful to have had the foresight to invest in this tiny but truly lovely property those many years ago. Yesterday, too, some of our furniture came back after the remodel, and the living room now looks more like it's former cosy self.
(After...) Today, we re-hang some paintings... Today, too, our daughter drives down from the city to celebrate the day with us.
Much, then, to be thankful for... We in our fortunate and much blessed family wish the same good fortune and blessings for yours.