Okay, here's something you don't see every day. Er, that is, you do see it every day, but it's weird when it's not there.Our waterfall has no water and no fall.
The Song of Hiawatha is being sung with a dry, dessicated falsetto. Which doesn't make trochaic tetrameter any easier, lemme tell ya. Poor brave Hiawatha has to stumble over a bunch of dried up boulders and concrete blocks to rescue his chick Minnehaha from the raging trickle of beaver pee ambling over the ledge.
I hope Longfellow never had to see it this way or he would have moved his house.
Of course if he'd waited long enough he could have witnessed the impressive yet incredibly vain construction project that tapped a well over 700 feet deep slightly upstream from the falls so that the river could be "turned on" in case of low water for a certain 15 minute presidential visit in the 1930's.
Handy.
Luckily we didn't have to resort to popping open the old well trick again: today brought rain, freezing rain, sleet, and snow, not necessarily in that order.
The Falls is showing it's best face again, with a few icicles to frame it's beard and a hint of fall colored foliage frosted with slush.
I hope Longfellow never had to see it this way or he would have moved his house.
Of course if he'd waited long enough he could have witnessed the impressive yet incredibly vain construction project that tapped a well over 700 feet deep slightly upstream from the falls so that the river could be "turned on" in case of low water for a certain 15 minute presidential visit in the 1930's.
Handy.
Luckily we didn't have to resort to popping open the old well trick again: today brought rain, freezing rain, sleet, and snow, not necessarily in that order.
The Falls is showing it's best face again, with a few icicles to frame it's beard and a hint of fall colored foliage frosted with slush.
"Okay Mack, he's gone, close 'er up. The Mayor needs his bath tonight!"
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