I was trying to imagine the flooding last night as I strolled along the river walk. There was a large hose, some matted greenery, but nothing else to give away the inundation that was. Instead, there was sultry air, graceful bridges, crepe myrtle in full bloom. 

It made me think about the changeability of the natural world, its highs and lows, of what Emily Dickinson described when she said:  “Nature, like us, is sometimes caught without her diadem.”