A Walk Through the Flooded Quarter

Three weeks after the river crested, the lower quarter still smells of mud. Mattresses line the curbs. The high-water mark, a neat brown stripe at chest height, runs unbroken along every wall, as though someone had drawn it with a ruler.

Residents are doing what residents do: pulling up floors, hosing out basements, arguing with insurers. Volunteers from churches three counties away arrive each morning with gloves and sandwiches. The mood is less grief than exhaustion, a kind of grim, practical cheer.

This is the third major flood in twelve years. Some families are leaving for good. Others say they will rebuild again, because this is home, and because the alternatives cost money they do not have. The city is studying a buyout program. Studies, people here will tell you, do not pump out basements.