Raining Squirrels and Chipmunks

Heavy raindrops pelt our tent. My grandmother nervously completes crossword puzzles; she's afraid of storms. The rain is impressive. Bach is in the background to distract us. Gram and I used play violin. My stint with the violin was short-lived, but my gram used to be quite good - this is what people tell me. The music seems to be a good distraction.

Neighboring tenters have dug ditches and are piling small bits of gravel. There is a dark stream of water tearing down the gravel walkway in front of our tent row. I wonder if this is what it's like living in a refugee camp during bad weather; except we have many modern appliances and the option of going home if we desire.

Pap watches the water flow. I fear there won't be much sleep tonight. Too much worrying about the water rising into the tent. The sound of the rain is almost deafening. It's hard to hear anything other than the rain. It's a roar.