I’m in the country in a very fine house and it’s raining to beat the band. Seriously, the heavens have opened up and are trying to dump all the water in the world right on top of us. At least that’s the way it feels right now. We’re just outside Moravia. I’m with a crew that is ready to livestream and do the sound for Songwriter Serenade. The little church where this will happen is right down the road, but I might need a boat to get there.

Although, this is unfamiliar territory. So, I have no idea how the local roads behave in rain situations like this. I’ll wait until daylight and a local wakes up to find out the best approach. Last year I stayed with the crew in a lovely farmhouse. This year they took pity on an old man (I slept on a couch last year), and I got my own digs. Pretty fine, but given the situation, I miss being with the crew. No one wants to drown alone, I guess. But that may be overstating the case. Suffice it to say, it’s really raining.

I imagine this will be one of those events that becomes a story, when things go south, and we all have to adapt. That’s fine. I’m pretty good at going with the flow. At some point this morning, I’ll talk to the crew chief and find out how he wants to proceed. Meanwhile, my bed is warm, the house is watertight, it’s still early, and the thunder is off in the distance rather than right over my head.