This morning the Schoharie is swollen with the rains of the previous four days. It appears angry and preoccupied as it carries run-off West toward the reservoir. Today, the color of rust. Tomorrow, too, given the volume of water and sediment it is carrying. Soon it will be clearer and calmer and satisfied. I have seen it black with rage, blue with ice, white-capped, green-tinged, brown bloated and yellow as a dry bone. Exposed in winter; hidden in summer, in spring it sprouts tadpoles, beaver dams and fishermen.
With all those DEP patrols, it doesn't sprout as many budweisers as it used to.
What happens when Mr. Midtown moves to an isolated acre in the Great Northern Catskills? It's Inconceivable!
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