categories: Cocktail Hour / Getting Outside
We get ’em in Maine spring and fall, these days of hard rain and then the floods. The old timers called them freshets. A famous fall one was the pumpkin freshet of 1868, when high water took out all the Sandy River bridges (a tradition–quite a few have gone down over the years) and stripped the fields of pumpkins, which took off in the thousands and filled the ponds behind dams downstream. Consensus was to fish them out and divide them up among the farmers. I took the photo above the other day in high spirits and sunshine and low water, just a scruffy spot over a beaver canal, Temple Stream back behind and out of sight. t I took the photo below 24 hours ago after wading up to my thighs where the path used to be, Temple Stream ascendant. It has not stopped raining since. I could get a shot of even higher water, but I’d have to swim.