and we are not even on an island. Eight years ago Hurricane Irene stalled over the Adirondack mountains and dumped umpteen inches of water into the already swollen rivers. There is a bridge on our road that crosses the mighty Boquet (pronounced Bo-kwet) which is usually a serene stream.
With all the rain that bridge got washed out. For one month we could only cross the river to the “mainland” on foot. We have had a temporary bridge since then. This month work began on the replacement bridge. Ah, but Mother Nature had other plans.
Yesterday we had another storm that dumped 3 inches of rain overnight, the river flooded the banks and roads, washed out the replacement bridge, and almost took a large backhoe with it.
Now there is a large gap between us and the road.
My son suggested I try to jump it. I don’t think so. This and a large sinkhole in the road will have to be repaired before we have any hopes of driving out of here again. Plans are afoot to walk to work on Monday.
Within an hour of discovering this, all our neighbors had been in touch with one another to make sure everyone was OK. We saw the Sheriff when we walked down to the bridge who suggested we call 911 if we needed anything. Anything?
Now there’s a new pond in the field.
And all is well at home. There’s a loaf of bread proofing in the oven and I have a loom to warp and perhaps a zillion other projects to keep me busy.