When I told my mother-in-law that Minnesota’s north shore received 200% of its average rainfall, she asked why they wouldn’t share at least some of that rain with us in Kansas, where we’re in such a severe drought that the fields of early July are brown and dying. It’s a reasonable question in an unreasonable year when crops are burning up in Kansas and rivers are running down streets in Duluth and Two Harbors, Minnesota.
When we were in the wet northlands, water was evident all directions: Lake
Superior to the east, endless as it led to the rising moon which left a long golden trail across the water. Or we could trek to the west and see a myriad of waterfalls, some lined with trails and sidewalks in state parks, some visible from great perches high above the spraying water, and some rushing with great force down one side of the highway underneath the road to finish the trek to the lake on the other side. A lot of rain, a big lake, and mountains will add up to such escapades, and we couldn’t help but experience all these elements in full and light rain continually all week.
Meanwhile, back in Kansas, we wish the water would come (just as those up north wish it wouldn’t come quite as much), and today, for a few
minutes at least, it rained like the north shore of Minnesota. No waterfalls, no ocean-like lake, no flooding of course, but sometimes just a little downpour on parched ground can feel like a vacation.