The water is as low as it's going to get without some help from big engined mechanical things. The culverts in the bridge are fully clogged with dead trees, brush, and riverrock. The whole of it is now channeled through the hole in my road at the south end of the bridge. The noise of the water is now merely pretty, no longer unbearable, and my front door is open again. The muddy brown has turned to a jade green and glows.

The small winged things have been rejoicing in the morning's sunshine: the Phoebes, the Spicebush Swallowtails, the dragon- and damselflies, the gossip bees and many more ~~ the air is aglitter with them.