"My" Creek
Wow! Can it really be that I have made no new posts in all of 2014 so far?
Yes, it actually looks to be that way! Yet it can't be that in all that time I had nothing to say. Nearly every morning I awoke to the ringing of lots of things in my head that I might have wanted to say and to post. The Republicans and other Nasties of the world are still as toxic and repulsive and destructive and imbecilic and inexcusable as ever, with no signs whatsoever of lowering their voices or of raising their standards. Nor did I stop writing things. I just did those in other areas -- emails and some of my past stories.
I feel that I can't take credit or discredit for this seeming negligence on my part, and instead it would be convenient to blame it all on the passage of time and its ever increasing rate of speed wherever I might be involved. Or it could all be summed up by one of the greatest glories of this property where I am so lucky to be spending most of these days building a new bridge, across "my" creek.
Time has definitely taken on the identity of my creek -- a masquerade of sorts.
Most days, like now, my creek -- our creek -- just ambles along, averaging about 10 feet across and about eight inches deep, clear, quietly eloquent. But every once in a while, and not even every year, but definitely more frequently than in past periods, enough rain will fall all at one time that the water will have no time for all of it to soak into the ground, so instead it runs off to my creek and then to the river a mile away and then to another, larger river maybe 10 miles away and then to the ocean 200 miles away. And when that happens, back here at home, it's never smart to get too close to my normally ambling, casual, absolutely safe little creek, because then it becomes nothing less than a raging monster, almost the same width as ever, but now ten times as deep and with the water pounding through with unbelievable speed and ferocity and carrying along rocks, logs, and any other projectiles it can get its hands on.
We are the only property owners who live full time on this creek, and it doesn't even become a full-fledged creek until the outlets from four springs much farther upstream unite just before coming onto our land. So, as we have the lion's share of it, we get to see more of what it's doing all the time than anyone else, including when the heavens above turn it into a whole army of raging lions.
We are really lucky to have this creek, just a stone's throw down the slope from our house, and we know it.
What else can I say?
Yes, it actually looks to be that way! Yet it can't be that in all that time I had nothing to say. Nearly every morning I awoke to the ringing of lots of things in my head that I might have wanted to say and to post. The Republicans and other Nasties of the world are still as toxic and repulsive and destructive and imbecilic and inexcusable as ever, with no signs whatsoever of lowering their voices or of raising their standards. Nor did I stop writing things. I just did those in other areas -- emails and some of my past stories.
I feel that I can't take credit or discredit for this seeming negligence on my part, and instead it would be convenient to blame it all on the passage of time and its ever increasing rate of speed wherever I might be involved. Or it could all be summed up by one of the greatest glories of this property where I am so lucky to be spending most of these days building a new bridge, across "my" creek.
Time has definitely taken on the identity of my creek -- a masquerade of sorts.
Most days, like now, my creek -- our creek -- just ambles along, averaging about 10 feet across and about eight inches deep, clear, quietly eloquent. But every once in a while, and not even every year, but definitely more frequently than in past periods, enough rain will fall all at one time that the water will have no time for all of it to soak into the ground, so instead it runs off to my creek and then to the river a mile away and then to another, larger river maybe 10 miles away and then to the ocean 200 miles away. And when that happens, back here at home, it's never smart to get too close to my normally ambling, casual, absolutely safe little creek, because then it becomes nothing less than a raging monster, almost the same width as ever, but now ten times as deep and with the water pounding through with unbelievable speed and ferocity and carrying along rocks, logs, and any other projectiles it can get its hands on.
We are the only property owners who live full time on this creek, and it doesn't even become a full-fledged creek until the outlets from four springs much farther upstream unite just before coming onto our land. So, as we have the lion's share of it, we get to see more of what it's doing all the time than anyone else, including when the heavens above turn it into a whole army of raging lions.
We are really lucky to have this creek, just a stone's throw down the slope from our house, and we know it.
What else can I say?
posted by Carl (aka Sofarsogoo) | 3:10 PM
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