A View from the Covered Bridge

The Middle Bridge pedestrian walkway flanks the east side of the span.  Along much of its length, lovers and others have carved initials.  About halfway across, near one of the uprights supporting the "cover" of the bridge, someone incised pairs of letters inside a shape like a heart.  I look for that marker, and there a I take the picture.  Today's came at 10 a.m.

I am by upbringing and general inclination a coastal person. 

Yet, for all my love of the sea, rivers draw me still.  Growing up in a Connecticut village, I crossed a bridge over the Quinnipiac River countless times.  At idle moments, on foot, I would stare at its steep, narrow banks.  Remembering the look about ten feet down, from over the rusted and bent ironwork barrier, all I recall are tires, thickets of branches and traces of oily water.  That such a mess had a name seemed odd at the time.  That the name was as exotic as "Quinnipiac," etched this neglected steam into my memory.

Now from a picture-perfect covered bridge, over a river with the resonant tag of "Ottauquechee," I have the gift of learning a real river.