Waterfall Down Lodge

Quincy bog, a wetland in the Pemigewasset River Watershed, was formed when the glaciers retreated thousands of years ago.

It is fed with inflows from streams and groundwater and supports a variety of species and vegetation.

It also has its share of mysteries and Robyn, an intern hydrologist, is going to find out just how magical the fen really is.

The second book of three, again, the author highlights environmental awareness with topographical accuracy.

A walk around Quincy Bog will never be the same.

“Bog dang it!” Barbara stormed in and slammed the front door of the miniature house made from sticks and twigs, peat and moss.

The stone fireplace framed the back wall of the great room, its chimney stack poking out from the ledges of Quincy Bog.

She ripped off her weapon belt, tossed it on the wooden floor and removed her waders. “By all that is sacred and precious!”

Billy heard his mother from his bedroom and went to check on her. “Mom? What is it?” He looked for signs of injury but couldn’t see any. She was wet, though. “What happened?”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to curse.” She squeezed the water from her hair and emptied the water from her waders into the kitchen sink, a repurposed, half, walnut shell.

“A Mort stole my canoe!”