16 November 2009 produced a beautiful, late-autumn morning.

But during the night it must have rained and rained as I woke to find our little river (by this I mean the one that passes our door) in full spate.
This was the view from our bedroom.

'Our little river' is the Arrigle (please don't correct the spelling as there are many) which rises 20k (12 miles) upstream of us at Mullinaharrigle and joins the Nore less than 1k (1/4 mile) below us.

It is not often that we see a strong flow of water through all four arches of the bridge: normally it runs beneath only the two, larger, centre arches, seen here.

This sycamore tree grows out of the bank of the river but is, here, to be seen well into the flow

... and the view of it from downstream

View of the flow from the bridge through the branches of the majestic sycamore that grows on the far side of the river from us and overhangs the bridge

And there was even a flow in the mill race behind the house, beneath my dog-rose bank, (referred to elsewhere), that I see from my window.

And here, at 4.00pm, is the sycamore tree back where it should be - on the bank

And, also at 4.00 pm., you can see that there is water still flowing through all four arches of the bridge, so the river still had some distance to fall. Also, on the right, you can just discern the tide-mark of leaves which shows where it had reached at its highest.

Finally, I have seen 'our little river' considerably higher than this, on many an occasion over the past thirty seven years, but this is the highest so far this year.

I still get a thrill whenever there is a 'good run of water' (as would be said locally) going by us.

------------------------------------

I thought I had completed this entry but on 19 November, just three days later, we did not wake to a beautiful autumn morning: it was raining heavily and blowing a gale.

It rained all day and this was the state of 'our little river' at 3.45 and, as you can see, it was still raining.

This was the view of the sycamore tree: apparently in the middle of the river

.... and of the flow at its butt

.... the flow beneath the arches of the bridge

..and, by the look of it, the (rare) prospect that the Arrigle would breach its bank on the far side from us and flood our neighbour, Brede Thomas's, field.

These shots are very poor, I'm afraid, but, even at 3.15, the light was fading fast.
However, in the context, I decided that they were, just about, worth showing as the forecast was for it to be dry overnight, so I guessed the drama would have been over by morning. And I was right.