Happiness, history and the laundry from hell

When our little flood caused some local excitement last week,

I took a lot of photos. It's what I do. I can't help myself...

For instance, I took photos of my once-again-filthy car...

I COULD moan about how I had JUST cleaned the blessed thing two days earlier.

And whinge and bitch about how it took me HOURS to scrub the last of the red dust from the corners and crevices of the doors and wheels. But really, do I EVER take photos of the clean version to show you, so you'd believe a second of the carry-on? No. So this is why I don't bother. Aren't you pleased I showed such restraint today?

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So I have settled upon something far more interesting...

If you've been around here a while, you might recall a very old bridge which crosses the 'river' a couple of kilometres downstream from our house.

For those who haven't trawled back through the archives (and I'm talking two years ago here folks) here is a taste. This is The Old Bridge circa March, 2008:

And here is my family on the Old Bridge...

It's a groovy old structure with lots and lots of character (and believe me, it REQUIRES a lot of character to actually drive over it)! This bridge that spent a decade or so completely submerged when our dam (a good 15km further downstream) filled in the '70s. Over the years it has survived some serious slamming of logs and goodness knows what else... and it has the scars to show it.

While we are at historical/hysterical moments of astonishment - how much has THIS little woman grown up in two years?

*heavy sigh*

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, there was some excitement two years ago when this little run of water came down the river...

...a mere trickle really.

If you recall, the action then was more human and canine related.

But this time,

...this time it was Mother Nature letting it rip.

Yikes.

No bridge walks for us on this week.

Those barely visible posts are the entry points to the bridge...

The water was already falling here - it had been about two feet higher than this before we arrived (you can see if you look closely at the darker flattened grass on the other side of the river...

By tomorrow, the water will be back to it's usual barely-there situation.

Many megalitres however have topped up parched underground reservoirs, and some of this even made it's way all the way down the river bed to the dam. A dam which has gone from two percent capacity (a puddle) to ... are you ready for it... FIVE percent! Whoo-hooo!

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Of course, in amongst the celebrating (and the odd spot of sarcasm) there is the anticipation of the least-popular job on Granite Glen.

Rebuilding river crossings.

All the fences swept downstream by the water need to be put back up. Twisted barbed wire tangled in mud and dead things and all kinds of smelly grossness... a job requiring the workers to get down and dirty. In hip-deep and sometimes chest-deep filth.

Guess who gets that task... no, not me if I can help it!

But who d'ya think gets to wash his feral clothes?

What?

Am I whinging again?

Sorry.

I think the Yanks call it "keeping it real".

See you after the laundry from hell.