Our least favourite springtime ritual is underway. It wasn’t supposed to happen this spring, so caught those who should have been in the know completely unawares. Apparently. Monday it was, “nah, no worries about flooding this year.” Tuesday it was, “hmm, maybe some in the rural areas, but nothing to get too excited about.” Wednesday that changed to, “holy crap, close the dikes and start sandbagging in rural areas south of Winnipeg, but don’t give it a thought in Winnipeg.” Yesterday it was “oh crap, we got it really, really wrong – brace yourselves, Winnipeg.”
Better version of the story here.
My house isn’t in any kind of danger. Well, the city sewer system and such could be affected by the rising river, but our basement hasn’t flooded yet and isn’t likely to. If it stayed dry during the “flood of the century” in 1997, it’ll stay dry now. But it’s times like this that remind me just how uncomfortably close I actually do live to the mighty Red River. Two natural, and one man-made dike are between us and it. But still, it’s just sort of “right over there”, if you catch my drift. Walk out to our front gate, look east to the houses a few blocks off in the distance at the end of our street, and the river is lurking right behind them.
As usual, however, most of my thoughts are with those in the rural areas south of the city. The city is protected from massive flooding at their expense, and I’m well aware of that fact. So, while I’m obviously glad that I won’t have water lapping at my doorstep, I’m not smug, or oblivious to the plight of others.