Water, water, everywhere

The recent floods here in the north of England have reminded me of the immense power of nature, and that the belief we are in control is merely an illusion that can be shattered all too suddenly.  To stand and watch the waters rising over bridges, submerging roads and fields while man and animal seek out dry land and shelter is both frightening and humbling.  

For several days over the Christmas holiday, I and many other people were drawn to the waters edge, then to stand awe-struck at the expanse in front us.  The river, so gentle-flowing on a summer's day, its murmur whispering an invitation to sit on its peaceful banks and watch the sunlight glistening in its water, was now, a deep menacing sea moving over the fields devouring all in its path, pushing trees, gates, everything out of its way.

Turkey, presents, and sales were all forgotten as people stood on the road with water lapping at the tips of their wellingtons, looking helplessly at the abandoned cars filled with water.  Standing on higher ground with five or six other people, the only sound was the wind in the trees and the now constant noise of gushing water, running to meet its tributaries, swelling its ranks like an army advancing in power as it progressed.  Indoors, those of us mercifully escaping the trauma of having our houses flooded, listened to the strains of 'The Sound of Music' while outside, even from the garden gate, the river's chorus resonated across the landscape.

For several days, I was struck by the absence of man's noise - the sound of traffic, machinery, human voices, people going about their work and lives.  But it was not total silence, for the wind blew, gale-force, making the trees creak and snap their branches, gates rattled and there was the now constant background noise of the raging river.  Nature's voice rang out across the fields and hills, powerful, dominant, in control while man fell silent, subdued.  People waited, hoped, feared, helped each other, did what they could, powerless against these natural forces.  This was what our fore-fathers experienced, understood, respected. 

"For the most appalling quality of water is its strength.  I love its flash and gleam, its music, its pliancy and grace, its slap against my body; but I fear its strength.  I fear it as my ancient ancestors feared the natural forces that they worshipped.  All the mysteries are in its movement.  It slips out of holes in the earth like the ancient snake.  I have seen its birth; and the more I gaze at that sure and unremitting surge of water at the very top of the mountain, the more I am baffled.  We make it all so easy, any child in school can understand it – water rises in the hills, it flows and finds its own level, and man can’t live without it.  But I don’t understand it.  I cannot fathom its power."

(Nan Shepherd)