Life in a Floodplain

The Big One

2011-07-28T06:39:00.000-07:00

In 2009, those of us living in the Red River Valley experienced what we thought was The Big One -- a record flood to break all other records. We had seen the peak of what was possible, we thought, and survived. Then came 2011, and predictions for the possibility of a new Big One. We got lucky. A slow, stuttering spring melt saved us from a deluge. The problem is, we never really dried out. It's late summer now and the soil remains saturated. The Red River of the North still runs above flood stage. Reservoirs are filled to unprecedented summer levels. The Army Corps of Engineers is flummoxed. People are afraid to utter the words they are thinking: Will the spring of 2012 be the next Big One?

According to professional geologists, the Red River of the North has only existed in its current form for about 7,000 years. Before that, it was a cold glacial lake among other similar lakes. Prehistoric people lived along the shores, notably The Minnesota Woman. Only because of a temporary climate shift did this landscape change into what we see today. Are we now witnesses to another shift, a climatic course correction?

The Minnesota Woman knew something that we refuse to acknowledge. She did not expect the landscape to remain static; nor did she expect the landscape to contort around her preferred lifestyle. Her humble life was based on adaptation to the land, not the other way around. Asking little of the land, hoping for a warm fire and a bountiful food cache, she left few marks; but her legacy is an important antidote for modern hubris.

The changing riverbank

2011-04-29T12:32:00.000-07:00

Time is like a river. That's not just a metaphor. If time is impermanence in action, then a river is time played out with soil and water and vegetation. The channel is forever changing, the banks reshaped.

There was a deep water hole gouged out of the riverbed only yelling distance from our front door. Sucker minnows would school there, and the otters and mink would find it to be a fine fishing spot. After this spring flood, however, that hole has been filled with sand. The sloughing bank that was toppling trees and slowly creeping toward the house has stopped advancing. Now the river is sculpting the opposite bank, piling sand into a strange ridge pattern. Beavers are more active this spring than anytime in the past four years, which is how long we've lived here. That's not very long to a river.

The view from Grand Forks

2011-04-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

Neat time-lapse photography of the Red River, January through April.

See the full-frame version here.

The view from Fargo

2011-04-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

I had expected to have significant flood damage to report in the Fargo-Moorhead city limits. But due to the slow creep of the spring thaw, and the limited rainfall, the Red River crested lower than what was predicted by the NWS. The river level didn't even reach 39 feet, which makes it lower than the past two years. Both cities had been preparing for the worst possible scenario for weeks, even months. All of their diligent preparation paid off (see photos above). Therefore, disaster was averted. It really ended up feeling like just another major spring flood on a river that has one almost annually. There's your wet, silver lining.

The water runs downhill

2011-04-08T08:32:00.000-07:00

The vernal pond in our front yard was growing by the day, fed by snowmelt and unable to drain completely because of the high river level on the other side of the levee. Oh, the transfer pump did its job and kept the shores from reaching our house, but those still waters run deep. Until last night. The river had ebbed enough to open the culvert gate and...whoosh! A stormy current of ice cold water rushed out to the river. The soil is still super-saturated though. Our sump pump in the basement cycles on and off constantly. It will take weeks for that to dry out.

The chorus of pumps

2011-04-05T19:16:00.000-07:00

Last night, I heard the echoes of small gas engines running throughout the township, as farmers began to transfer pooling snowmelt from inside their earthen levees to the flowing water on the other side. Drainage culverts are gated and locked to prevent the flowing water from backing into farmyards.

I started my pump to join in the chorus. I ran it for a few hours until dusk. You don't run a trash pump while you sleep unless it's absolutely necessary. The pump could go dry and then seize up without the benefit of water to lubricate the moving parts.

Today, it appears that the south branch of the Wild Rice River crested around noon -- perhaps not for the last time. But a series of moderate crests over a period of days is better than a major deluge all at once. There also happens to be a river flowing in our basement from the saturated soils seeping through the foundation walls. The sump pump is triggered about every five minutes. I wonder when the basement will crest?

The flood is on

2011-04-05T05:14:00.000-07:00

It's difficult to say when it actually began, because the slow overland melt has been occurring for about two weeks already. But the tipping point for major flooding surely was when the storm expected to bring snow over the weekend turned warmer and gave us rain instead. That's when the fields quickly turned liquid. From the air, I imagine the landscape looks like a giant thawing waffle, with the syrupy water overflowing from one section to another.

The field across the road from our house crested last night. It might sound strange to talk about a farm field having a flood crest, but this time of year, every piece of land has potential for temporary water storage. The road leading from our house to the nearest town appears to be safe. But the river continues to rise, first quickly, then slowly.

The view from Norman County

2011-03-28T07:24:00.001-07:00

This is a common sight now. Rural farmhouses formerly surrounded by fields of snowdrifts are losing ground to an expanding lakeshore. It shouldn't be surprising or alarming. Migrating waterfowl have been using these "prairie potholes" for millennia. March has welcomed geese, ducks, and even swans to these temporary, cool pools. If tradition holds, the elegant and ancient cranes will arrive in April. It will be wet for awhile. All we can do is enjoy the view.

The winter that won't end

2011-03-25T05:14:00.001-07:00

Our little river was rising significantly and turning into a big river until...until the cold March storm hit. It started as rain and thunder, transitioned to ice and then snow. Now the river is resting again, asleep until winter's claw releases control of the season. But the basement of our house continues to seep. I think the soil is well on its way to thawing out, even if above ground winter has the day.

The landscape is quiet

2011-03-21T07:20:00.000-07:00

The wheel of time is creaking slowly on a frozen axis. Puddles form in the fields and ditches. Bare patches of grass are revealed on south-facing slopes. Tributaries are rising slowly. The day-melt and night-freeze cycle is good for sap flow in the trees and for moderating flood potential. But it is now spring and the seasonal precipitation is the final determining factor for the flood equation of 2011. As of today, it remains unsolved.

The momentum begins today

2011-03-14T12:10:00.000-07:00

HYDROLOGIC OUTLOOK NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE EASTERN NORTH DAKOTA/GRAND FORKS ND

1158 AM CDT MON MAR 14 2011  ...SPRING THAW PROGRESS FOR RED RIVER OF THE NORTH...

...SIGNIFICANT WARM-UP WILL INITIATE SPRING THAW THIS WEEK...  A SHIFT IN THE LARGE-

SCALE WEATHER PATTERN WILL BRING A SIGNIFICANT WARMING TREND TO EASTERN NORTH DAKOTA

AND NORTHWESTERN AND WEST CENTRAL MINNESOTA EARLY THIS WEEK. DAY-TIME HIGHS IN THE

MID-40S AND NIGHT-TIME LOWS JUST BELOW FREEZING IN THE SOUTHERN PART OF THE BASIN

WILL START THE SNOW MELT THERE. ADDITIONALLY...A COMPLEX AND POTENT SPRING STORM

SYSTEM MAY AFFECT OUR AREA ON SUNDAY AND NEXT MONDAY WITH RAIN IN THE SOUTH AND

SNOW IN THE NORTH. THE RAIN WOULD ACCELERATE THE SNOW MELT IN THE SOUTHERN PART OF

THE BASIN AND ADD TO THE SNOWMELT RUN OFF. SEE THE 7-DAY OUTLOOK BELOW FOR MORE

DETAILED INFORMATION.

The plain and simple facts

2011-03-13T20:28:00.001-07:00

The floodplain belongs to the river. We can delineate it, map it, drain it, and dredge it. But we can no more do away with a floodplain than we can do away with gravity itself. Would a man sitting in a bathtub expect never to get wet?

We have altered the landscape to such a degree that predicting the severity of flooding from year to year is extremely difficult. Distant records are of little use; the land today does not resemble the land back then.

There will be a flood in the spring of 2011. But we are merely spectators, with a front row seat to one of Nature's most powerful Earth-shaping tools.

The snow/water equivalent

2011-02-28T08:05:00.000-08:00

Click to enlarge. That's a lot of water to discharge!

The February thaw

2011-02-17T09:01:00.001-08:00

A warm Chinook wind gave us a week of March-like weather a month early. It may have given some trees a false start, too, as the air temperature rose about 32 degrees (F) during the day and sometimes stayed there at night.

The snowpack was compressed and some water began to puddle underneath, but local rivers appear generally unaffected so far. The temporary thaw served as a window into the future, when March will soon be a reality. Everyone is getting ready, but Nature moves on a broader scale of time. "Where is spring?" we all ask each other. When I see geese, I will know for sure.

The questioning

2011-01-23T06:05:00.001-08:00

It's that time of the year again, when the Grand Forks office of the National Weather Service begins to roll out spring flood forecasts. There is a high probability for significant flooding this year -- no surprises there.

2010 was the unofficial "year of floods" at our home. After the spring flood, we had periodic flash floods from rain events throughout the summer, and then another big rain event in the autumn. Add in a record number of tornadoes and swarms of mosquitoes, and you have a year to remember (even if you'd rather forget).

This winter, with its snowfall totals rising by the day and by the storm, is adding what will become inches of water on top of the soil still saturated from the previous autumn. Our insurance company informed us recently that when FEMA re-evaluated their flood maps, our property was determined to be in a zone more susceptible to serious floods than previously thought -- no surprises there either.

At some point, I don't know where or when exactly it was, I began to curse the people who built this house here. There are multitudes of better locations to choose from in this section of this township. In a floodplain such as ours, even a 100-meter shift in location can mean the difference between dust and mud. Why several generations of a family would choose to continue living in mud is a question that remains unanswered. In a sensible world, all parties involved with a vested interest, financial or emotional, would get together to buy this place out. Then, the land would remain a wetland sanctuary to the riparian plants and animals who belong here.

The return to normal

2010-03-27T05:39:00.000-07:00

The Red River crested slightly below predicted levels and is now slowly receding from the clay levees and piles of sandbags. Our little tributary has sunk back down to its average level, if such a level exists. You see, in this kind of environment and this kind of landscape, nothing is static. Change is normal. This entire basin, with its countless streams and gravel ridges, is young in geologic time. The Red River is merely the last vestige of a humongous glacial lake. The channel is alive, drifting and slithering back and forth like a snake unsure of its destination. The people living here were hunter-gatherers, then farmers, then industrial and now something else. What is the mathematical mean in such a place? Every thing, every era, every variable is part of the norm.

The parks as lakes

2010-03-20T07:57:00.000-07:00

Trollwood Park in Fargo is now Trollwood Lake. Gooseberry Park in Moorhead has also been transformed into a water park. That's why these places are reserved as green spaces. No one should be living here. But in years like this one, the following legitimate question might be asked: Should the green spaces be expanded? That's what Grand Forks did after the catastrophic flood of 1997. Today that community has a beautiful green way up and down the river. Residents use it for recreation and community events. Plus, it allowed room for the construction of a gigantic levee system. Fargo-Moorhead might do well to consider this plan instead of the currently proposed diversion channel.

The sign of the times

2010-03-17T06:07:00.000-07:00

Road closures are one of the first signs of spring in the flood-prone Red River basin. The list of road and bridge closures in Fargo-Moorhead lengthens as the river deepens. The National Weather Service now predicts a crest of 38 feet on Sunday, but the only thing we know for certain is that these predictions change with the day, and sometimes the hour.

Out in the countryside, the tributaries are starting to calm. We were able to open our culvert gate yesterday, draining the cold pond in our yard. But it's a warm day, and the increased rate of melt could funnel a second surge down the watershed. Basement seepage will remain a problem no matter what the atmosphere does. There is no turning back the seasonal clock now.

The moving crest

2010-03-15T06:15:00.000-07:00

As the water uphill and upstream slowly recedes, the water in the bottom of the basin slowly rises. There is an interesting lag time between the feeder streams and the Red River. The tributaries rise fast and furious within hours of a major rain event or the first hint of spring breakup. But it takes days before the full effects are seen at the big Red. The latest forecast predicts a steady rise to between 38 and 39 feet in Fargo by Saturday morning. That predicted crest is about two feet lower than last year's record level. I suppose that may be somewhat of a relief, but the early arrival of flood season this year has caught most everyone off guard. It's a sprint to the finish.

The soil will remain saturated for quite some time. The sump pumps in our basement will run for weeks, until the water table eventually settles down to summer levels. However, we can do something about the standing water in our yard sooner than that. The transfer pump is currently doing its job, sucking up water from the low spots and and spitting it out to the other side of the flood dike. It's easier than using buckets.

The faucet

2010-03-14T06:08:00.000-07:00

It appears that we have been granted a temporary reprieve. The main branch of the Wild Rice River leveled off overnight. The south branch that we live on also appears to have crested for now. There is still significant potential runoff available in this watershed, but it is contained within shaded snowbanks and frozen soil. The rain stopped and the air is cool, effectively turning off the tap upstream. However, the Red River is like a big bathtub, still collecting water from all corners of the basin. That flood is yet to come.

The clogged drain

2010-03-13T18:37:00.000-08:00

The Wild Rice River at Twin Valley rose 10 feet in the last 48 hours, according to the nearest USGS stream gage. Accordingly, we have seen an equally dramatic rise in our back yard. The smaller tributaries like this fill up first, spreading out in a horizontal fashion, waiting for their turn to drain downstream to the Red River. Backed up, the cold waters swirl floating ice and debris into pools.

The spreading water spilled over the road today. We live behind the grove of trees you see in the picture above. A transfer pump was purchased in town and hauled back home while the road was still passable. By dark, it wasn't passable anymore. But we have our pump, we have our food and water, and a Sunday to watch the water go by.

The tipping point

2010-03-12T17:43:00.000-08:00

An inch of rain and steady temperatures in the high 30s (even at night) were enough to stir the sleeping beast that will be this spring flood. Our little river jumped out of its banks overnight. Overland flooding is filling the fields and ditches. The gates on the culverts had to be closed to prevent water from backing up into our yard. Our yard is surrounded by an earthen dike, making it a giant bowl of snow. That snow is melting now and it has no place to go. We will live on a lake until the river recedes.

The slush and the mud

2010-03-10T16:52:00.000-08:00

A week has passed without sunshine. Instead, there are gray clouds releasing a slow but steady mist, which occasionally turns to rain. The frozen landscape is slowly thawing into a slushy, muddy mess. Some local farmers are still trying to get last year's corn out of the fields before the frost comes out of the ground. Meltwater flows on top of the ice in the rivers and ditches. Gravity waits for no one or no thing.

The National Weather Service updates the flood forecast with changing conditions. In this case, even a cold rain melts snow faster than warm and dry weather. Spring rains were accounted for in the flood models, so few adjustments are necessary until something unexpected occurs. Major flooding is still likely for most locations along the main stem of the Red River. Significant overland flooding is expected from the tributaries feeding the southern basin (that's us). Like last spring, the fields will fill up with water, roads will wash out, and conditions will change rapidly. And so it begins.

The decisions

2010-03-01T12:11:00.001-08:00

March 1st marks the beginning of meteorological spring. Though the air temperature is struggling to reach the melting point, the trees and buildings and other dark surfaces are absorbing the sun's radiation, melting the surrounding snow and ice anyway. This slow-dripping melt is a cushion of time against potential runoff.

Now is also the time for preparation and difficult questions. How much do you spend on supplies that you may not ever use? Last year, we could have used a trash pump to transfer water and small solids from the yard to the river. These pumps were a hot item last spring, selling at inflated emergency prices, and so we made do with simple plastic buckets instead. We could use a gas generator for power emergencies. But again, it might gather dust under a tarp in the garage for years before seeing even one day's use. In the meantime, these machines have to be maintained and stored. Every decision carries a cost.

The snowpack

2010-02-21T14:15:00.000-08:00

This is the snowdepth map as of February 19th. The darker colors indicate deeper snow. As you can see, the region with the deepest snowpack is west-central Minnestota, a landscape which forms the headwaters of both the Red River and the Minnesota River. Both river valleys are likely to flood this spring, as they do most springs. But the National Weather Service emphasizes that the possibility for a serious flood this year is "almost certain." How serious? That depends on what happens in the next few weeks.

The plan

2010-02-10T18:01:00.000-08:00

This is not the time for panic; it's the time for planning. Those are the words recently spoken by a local mayor who served his community brilliantly last spring. As such, people listen to him. The plan right now is to fill a million sandbags before the snow even melts, and have them stored safely in a warehouse nearby. Now we wait, listening to flood forecasts and the planned response.

In the meantime, winter continues as usual. The snowpack builds and the winds blow. Foxes and pheasants scamper on the hard crust. They fear no flood. But they wait and watch the weather, too. We all do.

The deep freeze

2010-01-17T06:56:00.001-08:00

Around the Thanksgiving holiday every year, there are a few halting false starts. Snow swirls into flurries, and water experiments with a solid state. But the momentum of the winter season eventually reaches critical mass, and the big wheel turns. Then everything seems to crawl, as if the lack of heat freezes even the passage of time. It is not the end, however, but rather a rest. It is time for the land to sleep. Farmland gets few breaks from cultivation.

Surprise comes in the form of a mid-winter thaw. Raccoons crawl out of the big dead cottonwood to prowl the frozen riverbanks. Foxes bark for their mates. Skunks investigate culverts. Moods brighten and thaw as well. Everyone and everything has a different perspective on the deep freeze, as we rest and wait for the wheel of time to continue turning.

The beaver dam

2009-11-18T08:07:00.000-08:00

A few times a year, I notice signs of beaver activity on the river bank. Usually, it's a nomadic beaver, stopping only to refuel on the dense willow shoots or elm bark. This river isn't deep enough to support year-round living. This summer, an ambitious beaver decided to change that. I started to see entire trees chewed down, cut to length, and then stuck into the soft river bottom. It was fun to watch the process of dam building, and I found myself amazed at the animal's ingenuity. The dam was well-designed, from its placement next to a big old log for support, to its curving outline that bent with the strongest current instead of fighting it. It was a humble structure at first, but slowly grew under the patient work and eye of its beaver builder. The water level behind the dam rose a few inches over a few weeks. A pond was forming, and large schools of creek minnows swam in the deep pools. The fish attracted herons, and the mink and otter that left tracks telling their story of nighttime activity.

Soon, less friendly human eyes fell upon the dam. A local trapper was contacted by the watershed district and I noticed snares placed over beaver trails on the bank. The trapper's technique was haphazard compared to the beaver's. One evening, as I sat upon the big old log listening to the water cascade over the dam, I actually saw the animal for the first time. It wasn't a large beaver; it was probably out on its own for the first summer of exploration and independent life. The beaver saw me, too. It circled in the water, dunked a few times, then swam under a bank overhang and disappeared (possibly into a den). I was concerned that this beaver, not realizing that it lived in drainage ditch, wouldn't survive the summer because of the tangle of snares set nearby. There aren't a lot of beavers living in this area; goodness knows we could use more wildlife and less sugar beets.

In the end, humans had no say in the matter. An October storm event released several inches of rainfall. The river chose and churned. The beaver dam of sticks and mud flexed and moved, eventually separating and floating downstream in many pieces. The beaver most likely moved on to a place with more stable living conditions. I needn't have concerned myself any more than the watershed district needed to about this animal. The difference is, I hope the beaver returns next year and the drainage advocates do not.

The days of yellow

2009-08-31T05:19:00.000-07:00

It is late summer, and the mesic prairie is awash with yellows. Look around and you will see coneflower, wild sunflower, goldenrod, tansy, the dandelion and more all in bloom. The soft sun at twilight only adds to the glow. Soon, other colors will be reflected in the landscape, but for now the days belong to yellow.

The dog days

2009-08-05T05:03:00.000-07:00

A distinct sound of late summer fills the air, as dog-day cicadas call from the tops of hardwood trees. On the ground, a familiar plant blooms with whorls of flowers that resemble a fireworks display. This plant, common milkweed, was obviously not named by the monarch butterfly. The monarch has adapted over time to use the milkweed for survival. Eggs are placed on the underside of its leaves and the caterpillars are born on their food source. The milkweed contains a toxic substance that monarchs have evolved to tolerate. The caterpillar and butterfly stages carry the substance in their own tissue, making them distasteful to predators. Thus, a plant that grows in "waste areas" like roadsides and sandpits and floodplains, a plant labeled a weed by humans, is vitally important to an insect we find beautiful.

The summer low

2009-07-07T06:06:00.001-07:00

July and August typically deny our little river of precipitation. It has a relatively small watershed, so the water level is victim the short-term whims of seasonal snowmelt and rainfall (or lack thereof). Currently, the river bed is nearly parched. It's now hard to imagine this little trickle as the seed for a flood. Few fish and even fewer beavers are migrating upstream from the Red River of the North anymore. The water is just too shallow. The conditions are perfect, however, for wading. On a hot day, the sand and silt sparkle under a thin watery lens and provide a cool refuge for bare feet. Chasing minnows, following animal tracks, and collecting smooth stones are all part of summer on the river.

The public good

2009-05-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

Oakport Township is cleaning up the sandbags and temporary dirt levees and forming a mountain of debris (pictured). Perhaps they will use this debris in the construction of permanent flood protection.

FEMA officials are visiting with rural residents of the four Minnesota counties designated as disaster areas. If your home was damaged by the flood, or if you missed work due to the flood, you may be eligible for federal financial assistance. A professional and friendly FEMA employee from Illinois stopped by our house two days ago. Help is available to those who need it. It goes to show that government agencies can do good work if they are run by people who believe in public service.

The continuum

2009-04-20T14:23:00.000-07:00

As the floodwaters recede here in the valley, the waters rise out west. West of the Red River Valley is the prairie pothole region. In places like Devils Lake, the standing water level has been rising for over a decade. Birds benefit from it, but cabin owners do not. Farther west, flash floods occur in the steep ravines of the badlands. At least one man fell victim to the Mouse River near Minot.

Back home, things are quiet. We pick up the trash transported downstream from who knows where. There are liquor bottles, beer cans, and blue plastic tarps. Even the strongest flood can't scrub all of this junk away; but we have our share of beauty too. A pair of tundra swans stop by on the way to their namesake breeding grounds. Cormorants dive for minnows in the cold river. The spring air is filled with goose music. Life goes on as it always has, since before humans were here to watch it.

The second crest

2009-04-07T09:22:00.000-07:00

There will be a second crest on the Red River. There is still a significant snowpack left to melt, and April rains are inevitable. While we wait for the next wave, the receding waters allow us to see what the first wave swallowed. This news comes from the Grand Forks Herald:

Authorities believe a rural Climax, Minn., man found dead in the Red River was swept away in floodwaters as he tried to cross a washed-out stretch of road in a full-size pickup.

Polk County deputies located the body of a drowned man on Sunday evening about 60 yards downstream from where his four-door 2003 Chevrolet Silverado sat up to its windows in about four feet of water, investigator Nathan Rasch said.

The aftermath

2009-03-30T15:15:00.000-07:00

A river channel is forever adjusting its path through the landscape, even in the face of man's best attempts to contain it. Our river is no longer wild; it is part of an integrated and efficient farm drainage system. But even this drainage ditch is not static. After every high water event, the current widens the outside bends and scours out deeper pools. Weak banks slough down and trees tumble with them. This most recent flood picked up debris from miles upstream and piled it in the floodplain forest. Corn stalks and cobs, wheat straw, rotten sugar beets, and birch bark collected in mounds wrapped around tree trunks. New ridges of sand and silt lie on the banks, covered in mottled patterns. The new look is only temporary, as the river continues to flow, always changing.

The cold returns

2009-03-26T18:30:00.000-07:00

Roads are closed in all directions, but a morning of 18 degrees (F) allowed us to escape on frozen mud to the post office. The surrounding fields now resemble the Arctic Ocean. The local water levels dropped far enough to open the floodgate on our culvert, draining the icy pond in the yard. But we still wait and watch downstream. Most of our business is conducted in Fargo-Moorhead, and those communities are in a mad dash to keep up with ever-rising crest predictions from the NWS and USGS. Traffic is a mess and some neighborhoods are under evacuation.

The crest

2009-03-25T08:21:00.000-07:00

Our river crested yesterday, for the first time anyway. It receded almost a foot overnight. Unfortunately, a winter storm blew in and dropped three or four inches of snow before daybreak. Our gravel road is almost passable again, but now the highways are treacherous. Downstream, the Red is still rising. Public officials issue contradictory announcements, calling for more volunteers and advising no travel.

The island

2009-03-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

It feels strange to hear the birds singing so happily while the river surrounds us with cold brown water. To them, this must be paradise. There is a large flock of geese honking in the body of water that pours over our road. The juncoes are bathing in our yard and picking through last year's sunflowers. Robins hop around the water's edge, occasionally reaching down for something edible. Trees with wet feet have blackbirds in the dry top branches. A red squirrel chatters from the roof of the shed. The county placed roadblocks on both sides of us and most gawkers turn back. It has been quiet and peaceful for most of the island residents today.

The road

2009-03-24T04:54:00.000-07:00

The gravel road going north to the highway is under water, and not just a little water. There is a torrent of water, driven by the high winds, eating the road away. It doesn't help that there is a pile of ice chunks and corn stalks jammed up at the bridge, damming the river flow. For the moment, this road is still open to the south. We can probably get out that way. But if we get out, will we make it back in?

The sump pumps

2009-03-23T18:02:00.000-07:00

The river creeps higher. If we had any chickens left, they would be sleeping in the willow trees. There is too much water collecting on the wrong side of the flood dike. If the heavy rain hits us, we will need to start pumping it out of the yard and into the swollen river. As it is, the sump pumps have been humming every 15 minutes to keep the basement "dry." Dry is a relative term in these conditions. But everything still works in the house and we still have access to the highway. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

The rainfall

2009-03-23T08:09:00.000-07:00

This is one of Minnesota's new lakes. It used to be a soybean field. The rain started to fall last night. There hasn't been a lot of rain yet, but any rain is bad news. The snowmelt has nowhere to go and the rain will just add to the standing water. Rivers are rising faster now, and local town leaders are pleading with residents to stop using any water appliances. I stopped at a hardware store this morning to get a coupler for our back-up sump pump. A woman there was angry because the sewer drain plugs were sold out. She couldn't find one anywhere. A man suggested that she use a soccer ball or a basketball. The woman stormed out. At the grocery store, people were stocking up on bottled water and soda.

The slow rise

2009-03-22T09:38:00.001-07:00

I opened the floodgate on our culvert last night to drain the pond forming in our front yard. The gate will now remain closed until after the river crests. The river has risen up above the mouth of the culvert this morning and we don't want the water to back up into our yard. The metal machine shed above houses my parents' boat and my canoe. If the need (and river) arises, we can use the boat or the canoe to make our escape. I doubt it will come to that.

For now, the floodwaters can be appreciated for the habitat they are creating for spawning fish and migrating flocks of waterfowl. A pair of wood ducks were dabbling just a stone throw from our bathroom window.

The spring thaw

2009-03-20T06:43:00.000-07:00

Today is the first day of spring. This is a time for renewed optimism in the Red River Valley, but it is tempered by caution because the spring melt is also a time for the annual flood. The Red River of the North and every tributary to this great river, large and small, fills up with cold water from the snowdrifts that formed over the past four or five months. Some years, like this one, we also have to consider the rainwater held frozen in the soil from the previous fall.

We live on a small river that feeds the Red. This river serves as the drainage ditch for many square miles of flat farmland. The banks overflow on a regular basis from major rain events, so you can imagine what a record year of snowmelt will do. Our house is surrounded by a tall earthen dike; this structure was built after the big flood of 1997. But the National Weather Service and the USGS suggest that this year's flood could be bigger. This blog is my attempt to document the flood of 2009.