We had torrential rains Saturday from the storm system that left dozens of people dead in the midwest and southeast. With tornado and flash flood and thunderstorm warnings it rained steadily all day, interspersed with howling storms. Around nine Sunday morning I headed into the woods for what’s become a customary romp with Tucker to find this, a creek where I’ve never seen one before in the two years I’ve known this land.

A swale coming out of the pasture was so full of water it was actually flowing, racing down the precipitous hillside on its way to join the creek at the bottom. It was amazing to see what I normally view as forest floor become a beautiful aquatic world.

I couldn’t resist heading further into the woods to check out the real creek, the one that’s always there. I figured that if the storms were strong enough to create creeks where none had been in a long while, serious stuff must have happened below. And I was right. The little creek that’s normally a demure trickle resembled a small river. And I would have loved to have seen it in the height of the storm…I happened along more than twelve hours after the storms were over, and I could see that the creek had flooded its banks almost twenty feet on either side. It was truly remarkable to see the change in the landscape. The woods that had become familiar was now unrecognizable. The creek was muddy and churning fast.

I went back to the creek about twelve hours later, after sunset, and found it still high and muddy, though it wasn’t rushing as violently as this morning.

And even 24 hours after the last storm, the pop up creek still ran through the woods.