That Rainy-Day Feeling
My iPhone rang just after 10 this morning — Thursday. It was Donna — the treasurer of our condominium association here in Ames — asking if I could go downstairs, to the first floor, and help resident Mary Ann. When I walked down, Mary Ann was in the midst of a true crisis. Water from the gigantic thunderstorm that had been pounding us for the past hour had made its way underneath the downstairs exterior entrance and flooded part of our first level. The water was at least 4 inches deep when I arrived, and it covered our entire “mail room” and part of the adjacent hallway.
Mary Ann and I managed to get a water vac working. Then I got a broom and started sweeping as much water off our soaked carpets as I could. Fortunately, the water had not invaded any of the downstairs living units. The main problem was that an outside drain in the sidewalk leading to an exterior door had been clogged with leaves. It was about six feet from the door, and because it was absolutely gushing rain from the sky, I could not reach it without getting soaked within seconds. So I had to wait until the downpour finally subsided before I could lift the heavy grated cover off and pull out the chicken-wire screen that covered the plastic drain pipe underneath. Once I did that, the water that had been lapping at the exterior door went into the drain, and our immediate danger of flooding was over.
All this was the culmination of a wild eight hours or so of incredible Midwestern weather. It started around 2:30 this morning, when the first big thunder-boomer rumbled its way through these parts. That was precisely when KCCI-TV’s weather guy, Kurtis Gertz, had predicted it would on the previous evening’s newscast. That first storm — which included heavy rain and so much lightning and thunder that it was tough to get back to sleep after it woke us up — lasted about 90 minutes. Then — after a short respite — a second storm made its impressive arrival around 6 a.m. This baby lasted another hour or so, at which point we had hopes things would dry out.
Alas, they did not. The third — and by far the heaviest — thunderstorm absolutely blasted its way into Ames around 8:30. Oh, my. Even by Midwestern standards, this was a doozy. Heavy rain. Lightning. Thunder. And by then — with the ground already saturated — all that water had nowhere to go. Many Ames streets were flooded — including a big one, East Lincoln Way. Our Grand Avenue underpass became a lake — one which caused three vehicles — including a mail delivery truck from the Ames post office — to get stuck. Fire crews had to use an inflatable raft to rescue the stranded postal worker. And, yes, the ground floor of our little condo complex was overrun with the wet stuff. All this because more than 4 inches of rain had fallen.
During the third storm, the sky was so dark — remember, it was 9 a.m., hours after the sun should have been up — it looked almost like night. We kept our radio tuned to KASI, the local news-talk outlet, and we were not disappointed. Mel Crippen — the long-time morning show host — and news guy Trent Rice were “on top” of the storm. They were doing what local radio still does best — giving us moment-by-moment updates on what was happening. At one point, Mel was talking on-air with Ames police commander Geoff Huff by phone — receiving updates on road and travel conditions — when the National Weather Service put out a flood warning. It sounded on my iPhone at the same time it sounded on Huff’s — which he was able to talk about, immediately, with Mel. The big worry was not Ames street flooding — it was that Squaw Creek or the Skunk River could possibly overflow their banks and flood — among other things — a major retail area along South Duff Avenue — or even the Iowa State Center, where the university has its football stadium, basketball arena, two performance theaters and a building that houses an art museum. Such flooding has taken place in the past here, and when it did, it made national news.
Now we’re playing the waiting game. The thunderstorms inundated watershed areas north of Ames, and our “experts” say it will take eight to 12 hours to find out if enough water is making its way here to cause us severe flooding. In other words, we won’t know if we face big-time problems until late tonight or early tomorrow.
Now, don’t misunderstand me — folks who live here fully appreciate the need for periodic wet eruptions. Without spring and summer thunderstorms, Iowa would not exist in any meaningful way. This is a farm state, and those who plant corn and soybeans need summer rain to irrigate their crops. So while thunderstorms can occasionally spawn what’s called “severe weather” — which means hail or perhaps even tornadoes — they are necessary for the lifeblood of Iowa and many other states in the Heartland.
And those same thunderstorms that play such a major role in this area’s economy also create the lush look that Ames and many other communities have during summer. As I’ve written here before, Ames is incredibly green this year. Neighborhood lawns are growing fast, and the huge trees that canopy so many of our streets in Old Town are looking healthy. But this latest round of downpours impressed even the locals — and not in a good way — which means it was too much. Fortunately, not every thunderstorm produces a flash-flood warning. Not every storm floods our streets. And certainly, not every storm floods the ground floor of our little condo complex here in Old Town.
Living part-time in Iowa is a grand and glorious retirement adventure for us. Today, that adventure became a bit “too much.” Our weather forecast for the next few days is sunny and hot — and, yes, dry. I won’t complain about that, and I doubt that many others around here will, either.