The river could no longer contain the volumes of water from our recent rainfall, and so the gap between the river and the boating lake became one big paddling pool for those brave enough to put on their wellingtons and feel their way along the no longer visible path.
That was me. I was alone as, with the excitement of a child in a large rain puddle, I paddled my way along the path, my toes getting ever colder, the water getting ever closer to the top of my boots.
holy macinaw look at that water! you know, i grew up to floods waist or chest high during monsoon season growing up in the old country. always, my fear is i'd step into an uncovered manhole and i'd be a goner. if i didn't drown then the dirty water would've killed me! very nice composition, helen. aces!
January 22nd, 2020
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