We all know that I hate water, right? Oh. Right. Right.
So yesterday morning the news issued a flash flood warning for North Georgia. Hey, I live in North Georgia.
I was a little worried about the lake cresting the bridge on the way to Jeff's work, but not terribly worried. Because where I live, nothing ever floods. Ever. So we went to work anyways. Everyone did. Because it wasn't going to flood here.
The drive to work started off normal. The lake level was slightly high, but nothing scary. By the time I dropped Jeff off, it was raining so hard that I had about 10 feet of visibility. By the time I got to work, they turned me around and sent me right home.
Only I couldn't get home.
I left my office at 12:30 and we didn't get home until 5:30.
During that time I made two phone calls to 911, watched water swell and wash onto road after road, gawked at the baseball fields that looked like lakes, and saw dozens of stranded motorists.
I was surprised we made it home at all.
Apparently, it will flood here. Even if you've spent nearly 26 years living here and never seen anything flood. I will never risk driving in it again.
Hours earlier, the 6 inch trickle of a creek down the cul-de-sac had risen to over 8 feet and flooded outwards about 20 feet in each direction, effectively cutting off access to our neighborhood. This photo is from after it had receded some and no longer looked like white water rapids.
Wildlife washed up in the back yard, some crawdads and fish we threw back. And this little guy that I like to affectionately call "Spot"
