A liquid can assume the shape of any vessel in which it is stored, and this reservoir has curved borders since it would be strange indeed to find a reservoir with angled corners. I suppose a polygonal shape would be too weak to withstand the pressure that water exerts. And now I remember learning that a circle is a polygon with infinite sides, so a rounded corner could distribute the pressure and mass of water over more pressure points that can be easily counted.
All of the foregoing is a stream-of-consciousness related to my school days. The image above shows a place I gravitated toward during that era of my life. I’d go to this reservoir to walk alone and clear my mind, which was not so easy to do at that time given all of the angst and information that was stuffed into it during my teenage days.
I’d dream of what my life might be like once I was done with school. I’d imagine living in one of those apartments in that building with a view of the water. I’d have peace at a glance when I looked through the windows.
Eventually, I did move into an apartment with a balcony that overlooked a little lake (but not the one shown in this picture). I did feel peace when I looked out the windows. I lived there until my life became too large to fit in a two-bedroom apartment.
This week’s photo challenge is Elemental.
This week my time is short, so I grabbed a shot from deep in my photo archives. This image hails a late 2000 trip to Westport, WA. I stood on a pile of rocks as the evening tide lapped at my feet while the sun set. I had a one megapixel Sony Mavica that recorded images onto floppy discs, and I could take no more than 10 pictures per disc. That technology seems so quaint now, but I’m sure that the power of the water hitting that Pacific shore is still the same, seventeen years later.
Our whole subdivision drains toward the corner close to my house. Whenever we have heavy rain, the ditch behind our yard fills with water (up to twelve feet deep), and the corner three houses down floods.
Yesterday we had rain heavy enough to fill the ditch eight or nine feet deep. I’m not sure how much rain fell. The county airport is the official record keeper of precipitation, but it is twenty miles from our neighborhood. They reported 1.8 inches of rainfall yesterday, but the ditch doesn’t start filling unless at least two inches of rain falls in a single day.
I took the above picture early in the morning today. By the time I returned home from work, the waters had almost receded completely:
I am glad that we live on a small hill and have no basement or crawl space. Two years ago, we had six inches of rain in a single day, and this is what the corner looked like then:
I still can’t believe how many people tried to drive through those flood waters.
Here’s another shot of the wildflowers nestled into the pond at Kendrick Woods. I wish I was savvy with video so I could convey more of the peacefulness of this place. I took a super short video of the pond with my phone that includes some of the birdsong I heard this morning:
I had a peaceful morning stroll through part of Kendrick Woods located in Allen County, Ohio. There was a pond that had an island with wildflowers.
Like fading to a dream in an old film, wherein the heroine relives the day she stopped caring about her rivals . . . and in this resignation, she saw that the only rival who mattered was herself.
Fallen maple leaves in a flowing Ohio creek