Awakening to Rain

Around 6 am, I heard the familiar sound of raindrops, splattering against the window. My signal to dive deeply beneath the the comforter for an extended Sunday morning sleep. Then the wind hit with a kind of Whomp! and our little, cottage suddenly became not so much water-sided as broadsided by water. One moment of raindrops, and then the earth rolled up her sleeves and pitched in to help out the sky with raining .
   I looked out across our little section of the big pond to see only gray. With no demarcation between gray sky and gray land, the world was upended. I felt like a diver, unsure between up and down.
   Sheets of rain flung themselves against the house, licked under the front door, and reverberated across the water beyond our pier. A foolish plastic chair launched itself from the deck and fell defeated against the railing. I saw what I had not seen before. This is not a house, but a houseBOAT.... at least I hope so. Our little finger of land was disappearing fast, the marsh reeds drowning, and that wind menacing. All this before coffee.
  Then it stopped. A pair of ducks landed and set about finding breakfast. No line of cars clogged the highway in route to safety. The water level remained below the pier. It was only a shower, not even a storm.
   I have yet no vocabulary for this place. No labels that that say "this is this and that is that." I am reduced to wildly misplaced cliches and weak-kneed perspectives.