As I wandered along the bank after last weeks heavy rains the natural cycles of a river were on full display. In some sections the force of the sediment-filled flood waters effectively sandblasted and carved deep into the favored fishing spots; in other areas it turned fields into sprawling sandboxes. Several smaller trees were uprooted and had been shoved by the rushing water against larger ones that held fast. The ongoing process of life. Now interrupted by man-made debris — I got an overview of where it was deposited in trees and made a mental note to try and get to it during the next week.
Since I headed toward the sun, to the east down my alley this morning, I’d granted myself the luxury of a warm RnD coffee to go, which made the chilly river stroll so much more pleasant in every way. And of course, I came across my young winged mentor. She was on the opposite bank, body tightly bundled up, doing her best to conserve heat and at the same time take in the warming sun. I knew she was aware of me, but since I had on my fedora, which I don’t wear tubing, I doubted she’d recognize me. I softly clicked my tongue a few times as a greeting she might recall. I slowly and softly made my way directly cross-river and squatted a few feet down the crest of the bank.
We enjoyed a lovely ten+ minutes of quiet communion. The river gently gurgling, birds chirping and zipping from branch to branch, a squirrel noisily scurried through leaves directly behind her (to neither’s concern), everyone was simply being. The sun began to rise, illuminating the water’s surface and brightening patches of trees. When I broke the reverie and rose, at once she took flight, as when two friends say “gotta go,” and we each in our own way headed into the unknown adventure of a new day.