Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me. – Psalm 69:1-2
Exeter River flowing under the String Bridge, early this afternoon. I wish I could add sound to this photo.
It stopped raining, so we did some rubbernecking.
Looking down into troubled waters.
We are the river watchers.
Seacoastonlinecom: Rain spurs regional road closures, evacuations.
The Exeter River was supposed to crest last night.
Photographers on the String Bridge.
The Exeter River rises in Chester, NH and travels 40 winding, twisting miles to this point. Not far beyond, it becomes the tidal Squamscott River which flows into Great Bay.
A little further north, the Lamprey River flows through Newmarket before entering Great Bay.
Both rivers have dams and old mills.
My husband got a call on his cell phone and I heard him say: “I’m just driving around with Amy taking pictures of water.”
Wikipedia: Newmarket, New Hampshire.
Beginning with the first cotton textile mill in 1823, the Newmarket
Manufacturing Company would dominate the mill
town’s waterfront and economy with seven textile mills harnessing water power at the falls.
The Lamprey River was named for John Lamprey. For a while, the town was called Lampreyville. Newmarket was a center of the New England shipping trade with the West Indies.
More river rubberneckers.
The Lamprey River rises in Meadow Lake in Northwood and flows 50 miles to tidal Great Bay. Great Bay empties into the Atlantic Ocean via the Piscataqua River.
We’ve had record or near-record rainfall in March, and we tend to be a kind of wet place anyway. The Granite State could just as easily be nicknamed the Lots of Lakes and Rivers (and Flooded Basements) State.
Waterfalls and rapids at the “fall line” of rivers throughout New England provided power in the early days of industrialization.
Even earlier, the fall line defined settlement patterns on the East Coast as it usually represented the limits of navigation from the ocean upriver. It was a good location for sawmills and gristmills too, and you couldn’t have a town without them.
Once again, I wish I could add the sound made by the impressive volume of water moving under our feet.
It was good to get out of the house after so much stormy rain on this, the last day of the hardest month. Our little tour made me feel less oppressed by water and more refreshed. The water roar itself was a clean sound that went in at the ear and all through the head.
Water is on, in and over everything now. But it will feed life and the dead season will be over soon.