The Illinois River is angry. It overflows its banks and barrels into farms, homes, and businesses. Its swift and churning current carries logs, trees, and animals that couldn’t get out of harm’s way. It’s a deadly enemy without compassion, without remorse, claiming as its own anything in its path.
The river has flooded many times before; the last time was a year and a half ago. Will it reach those historic depths today? I don’t know, haven’t heard. I do know that it’s pretty mean and dangerous.
Usually, its current is placid. It is a place for float trips, camping, and fishing. When my grandparents lived along it, its fertile bottomlands furnished bountiful crops of corn, but even then it had occasional temper tantrums. A single flood could wipe away a whole season’s worth of work and the corn would be gone in a few hour’s time. My grandfather couldn’t do one single thing to stop it.
Most times, the river flows along, offering fun and peaceful moments, meandering in places, running swiftly through others, but going somewhere with a destination in mind. On the surface, it’s a happy, serene stream. However, it has hidden depths, deadly currents and dark and murky pools. Then, there are other times like today, when it roars and churns and reaches out to grab whoever and whatever is in its path. The only way to survive it is to stay far out of its way.
Photo by Missy Albrecht
Life can be inscrutable at times. Usually, it runs smoothly and I’m grateful. The people I meet are almost always friendly and courteous, but this is only on the surface. Most of us have hidden depths and there is more to us than meets the eye. This is why I write cozy mysteries. I like to plumb those depths, find out what makes people tick, what lurks beneath that pleasant exterior. My protagonist sometimes finds herself caught in the chaos surrounding a mystery and she won’t be happy until she is able to set things straight and return life to normalcy.
Floods happen. Storms happen. Life can be sad or tempestuous or inscrutable. It can turn things upside down and rearrange the landscape. Tomorrow, I’m going to re-publish the story of the Peggs tornado which nearly wiped a small Oklahoma town off the map ninety-seven years ago on May 2. This is a story of tragedy but it’s also a story of courage and compassion and the spirit of man which no flood or storm can diminish.
Manos Meadows Mysteries
Cozies with an Extra Shiver
Cozies with a bit of history and a whole lot of mystery.
Speak Your Mind