Inundation

My husband shovels brown-flow and seed potatoes from the drive, slews the wheelbarrow to the garden. He pushes root-tangles into sodden soil with last week’s half-grown veg from the farm up the hill. Corn stalks bristle the surface of mud-sludge, and coupled ducks are swimming in furrows; even the spillage of birds are in full-witter. A guy on the radio says large smacks of barrel jellyfish got caught in storm currents, floated into bays, clogging the harbour, closing the power plant inlet.