One of the things I miss about the 802 is surface water. A series of recent storms have filled the stream that runs through the camp with a wonderful rushing, splishing, splashing sound that reminds me of bygone days tramping the woods of Vermont. The first few storms were simply absorbed by the dry mountain sponge, and I was disappointed that the stream didn't begin to flow, but apparently the mountain has reached a point of saturation where it is allowing some of the moisture to escape its thirsty grasp and run down through the stream.
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