NORTHWEST ARKANSAS — Thirty-four. That’s the number. Like the ones you see scattered in magazines and newspapers drawing attention to a particular statistic - one that is relevant to the reader and which may affect him/her.
That’s the number that hit me square between the eyes last Thursday afternoon. Let me explain. Perhaps it will also hit you where it hurts.
I was out in the backyard about five-ish (that’s p.m.) last Thursday. The sky was overcast. The temp had dropped several degrees and the almost-mild breeze promised deliverance from the drought that has plagued such a wide area, including Arkansas, which seems among the hardest, make that hottest, hit.
Reaching back several hours to the night before, I recalled the encouraging words from the weathertubers as they promised, practically, that we in northwest Arkansas would be treated to a refreshing rain.
Of course they added the caveat: the rain would be scattered but, oh yes, the chances were 60 percent.Which was 60 percent better than had been predicted in almost a month.
It was then I heard the rumble. It wasn’t a jolting horizon-to-horizon rumble, nor a sharp, splitting dagger-type rumble. But it was the rumble of thunder.
Sheltered by trees, I decided the best vantage point to see our promised 60 percent shower would be to drive up on Lion Hill - that’s the new high school location where a good horizon-to-horizon view is available.
I scooted up there pronto, all the while gazing occasionally at the darkened sky which (did my eyes deceive me?) became increasingly lighter.
I circled around in the parking lot a couple of times peering in all directions. It was then it happened. What was that which seemed to mar the windshield? Yep, you guessed it. It was a raindrop. A real honest to goodness bit of a type of manna from heaven.
There was another drop ... and another ... and, yes, another!
I wheeled the car back toward Main Street and enjoyed the increasing number of angel-tears that appeared on the windshield. And then it was over.
I had carefully avoided turning on the windshield wipers so it was then I decided to count the number of drops.
You guessed it. There were 34.
Proceeding down Main and then north to Detroit Street, I looked in vain for additional proof that our promised rain would really arrive.
No way, Jose. By the time I pulled into the driveway, all evidence of the moisture was gone, leaving those dust encrusted raindrop splotches on the glass. I turned on the windshield washer and on the first swipe all evidence of the drought-killer was gone.
That is my 34 tale. It leaves me wondering, wondering how many drops hit windshields in Rogers, Lincoln, Johnson, Springdale, Berryville and other area towns and cities during their one- or twoinch downpour?
Maybe someone could put a pencil to a formula and come up with an answer. It’s an exercise I would like to have the opportunity to attempt. Wouldn’t we all!
Dodie Evans is editor emeritus of the Westside Eagle Observer. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].
News, Pages 6 on 08/01/2012