Overnight the mighty Maranoa spilled over the weir wall and went swirling downstream, carrying its load of silt and debris. Walking over the footbridge this morning (with Major) I met and talked to a couple of groups of people from "away". Muddy water flowed swiftly beneath us, less than 1 m from our feet. Overhead, fairy martins swooped as they darted between their bottle-shaped nests built beneath the bridge and the river where they collected beakfuls of mud.
At the old crossing, where the flow was barely a trickle yesterday, water roared over the road. Today our house is most definitely waterfront in position.
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