This is the first ravine I saw, one hundred feet from my house, after the deluge of December 2013.
The second and third a few hundred feet down the mountain.
The fourth I pictured a laundrymat and it has begun. I would hang my clothes on the bambo rods to air them out.
My favorite is the one with all the vines hanging down like a curtain after the trees were uprooted. It brought me back to my childhood on South Flagg St. in Worcester in the late forties, early fifties and there was a swamp at the end of our street. They were post war houses built on land fill I image. There were vines that we could swing from but there were too many trees and we always smacked into one. But it was the humid jungle to us, the Sniders and Goldsteins and Burwicks and Hurwitzes, the second generation Americans, one more step into assimilation.