The Hydrant

This hydrant sat in the middle of the woods. You would come across it whilst walking up the“street” between Maple and Center. We knew there used to be streets of a neighborhood beneath our feet, but decades of vegetation had strewn soil and debris over asphalt and former gardens while plants took root in excavated fill that sat where houses stood.

This was our private waterpark in the late 1990s. Here, asphalt sat exposed, and with a sprinkler cap and a wrench, we could open up a fresh New York City water fire hydrant, and let the mother fucker run for days on end until the local engine would turn it off.

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