The river is here

Our daily runs (actually I've become quite lazy over the past two weeks,
not getting out nearly as often since my running shoes were drenched by
the cleaning woman) were abruptly curtailed this week as the bridge was
flooded away. This apparently is a yearly, if not more frequent,
occurrence as I was informed by the man I met crossing the river in a
canoe that he had made from half of a tree's bark, peeled away like a
tamale wrapper and good for about three crossings over the water, I
would estimate (maybe he could stretch it to 4 and get back to the side
he started from). The bridge is usually kind of a miracle of sticks
and logs and tree branches held together with bark rope; it's always an
adventure when we are running in the morning whether it will hold at
all. We occasionally get crocs and hippos when the river is really
high, like it is now, but so far, we haven't seen hide nor hair of them.
The rains, after rotting my garlic, are beginning to show signs of a
little bit of a break; I'm told I will miss them when April rolls around
and I'm shivering in the cold weather (no fireplace at my abode, unlike
most of the places out here). For right now, though, I could do with a
change of pace with the weather.