Mar 18
Originally uploaded by Dancing Crow.
A couple days late, but I managed to snap this as I was going (very slowly, thank you for helping me worry) over the bridge headed home on Friday. The snow was blowing about like crazy and someone had slid into the curb and a cop was keeping people from hitting him and incidentally taking up an entire lane. When the light turned red, we all stopped for a long time. I wanted to catch the way the snow obscured the view, something that would be ripe for more wispy fabrics except I ran out.
I love this bridge. I love the other bridge too - the bike path bridge. When we first moved out here, the bike path was coming "in about two years". It took a decade, but they finally pushed it through. Even before the path, Al and I climbed out onto the bridge, hopping from tie to tie until we were half way across the river, looking down at the island in the middle. I still stop in the middle and admire the view, upriver and down river, every time I ride across. And I make a point of noting the river as I drive over. I taught the kids which river this is when they were tiny. Alice really got into it - lisping "the mighty Connecticut" from the back seat every time we crossed any river. We have a couple good ones. The mighty Deerfield. The mighty Millers (we dumped in a snowstorm in March one year, one develops a profound respect for the river admiring it from eye level in the snow.) The mighty Quabog (substantially smaller) and the mighty Quinnebaug (really a very nice small stream, just wide enough for a canoe to make it around the bends. It's an old joke by now.)
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