Over
the last day or so it has rained heavily. That, with the warmer
temperatures, has added to the rapid snow melt. The result has been
flooding, as the water runs to the lowest point; unable to soak into the still
frozen ground. After school today I visited several area creeks and
rivers in Northern Winnebago County. What I saw reminded me of a journal
entry I wrote back in April of 2000. I
wrote this entry almost 18 years ago after driving down to the southeast side
of Winnebago County to visit the Kishwaukee River's then flooded banks.
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Norman
Maclean once wrote, “I am haunted by waters,” or at least the movie version of
his book narrated those words. These
words come to me today as I watch for the second day in a row the rain that
plummets from the sky. Each drop pounds
itself earthwards and then creeps away in silent fashion to hide. This, however, is not the end of its
escapade. As the troops of droplets
gather in the valleys they ready themselves.
Those veiled in secrecy slowly emerge to join the ranks. Within the downpour and the thunder that
snarls angrily overhead, the armies of water build until, with the strength of
numbers, they begin their journey to the nearest creek or river.
The
waters of these swollen rivers haunt me in that they are terrible. They are terrible in the sense that one must
fear them out of respect. The waters
churn. They carve. The river is a living entity that is never
more evident than when it is in this state.
The water races with a furrowed brow and an intense, stern face. It screams, “Don’t mess” from its mouth; and
I don’t. Yet I can’t help but feel a
deep intrigue. I long for a glimpse of a
river running over its banks. Why the curiosity? The power!
The waters of an irritated creek, stream, or river rips and tears the
earth from its banks at each bend. Trees
and rocks are an afterthought, and once strewn forth, they become ripples within
the current. This same hand of power
that strikes unmercifully, however, replaces the land on the opposite side
after chewing it up and spewing it out, albeit further down river and on a
calmer day. Its colors are foul yet
beautiful as the waters gouge its bed and boil it into a bubbling froth. Perhaps it is the sound it makes that forces
one to pay homage. In the midst of the
storm, the wind and rain are one with the current as it roars onward.
Don’t
turn your back to this spectacle, however.
Once the rain stops and the sun burns forth, the land continues to drain
itself of the excess water it cannot absorb.
Now is the time when the surface will sparkle and entice. Now is the time when the water will gurgle
and trickle, lulling you into careless submission; for all the while the water
rises. Its depth is deceptive in the
magical, murky accent. One can feel complacent
in the sounds of a babbling river, not realizing that the small branch that
bobs up and down with the drifting water is the tip of an entire tree now
ensnarled below the surface. Beware the
intensity of the seemingly clam surface.
A river can be shallow and clear.
It can laugh as it wanders lazily, but it can also take a life with violence. Enjoy nature’s fury and rage but with
heightened senses. The same drop of rain
that tickles the nose on your face as it drips off your head can also join
forces with countless others to create a river of wrath. Ever alert while on my haunts, I peer from a
distance at the cleansing power of a moving river and am “haunted by waters.”
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Pictures And Videos From Today:
Dry Run Creek Running Through A Field
Dry Run Creek Racing Under The Bridge With Inches Of Clearance
CLICK ON THE VIDEOS:
The Sugar River Today
The Same Stretch Of The River As Above (Three Days Ago)
Did
you catch the alliteration? The “S’s” of
Snapshot, Snowshoeing, and Snow day brings you into an English class on a day when school was cancelled. That’s alliteration as well as ironic. This blog is mostly pictures, so I’m not going to write much other than to say that today was a good day to slowly pull out of a funk from
recent pressures. After waking early
this morning, and getting something to eat, I shoveled the driveway. Since there was a lot of snow to move, I took
my time. I used the shoveling as “delayed
gratification” so I could do something else later in the day that was perhaps a
bit more enjoyable. After catching my
breath, Cindy and I jumped into our Jeep and ran a few errands before
lunch. Once we were home I took a needed
nap, and then I threw some gear together to head out to the snowy woods.
My
parents gave me my own pair of snowshoes on Christmas day back in 1989. Cindy and I used to have them hanging crisscrossed
in our apartment when we were first married.
Friends used to wonder if they were “real.” Although loved, they were “City Slickers.” My snowshoes are made of green ash and
rawhide, with bindings that my Dad made from old inner tubes. Appropriately, they are Michigan style
snowshoes; which simply means they are not as long as the Alaskan style, and
not quite as round as the Bear Paw style.
In other words, they keep you on top of the snow while allowing you to maneuver
in tight situations.
My
dog Kora and I went out to a favorite area for several hours. I saw four bald eagles while trekking along
(two that were mature with their white head), and one pileated woodpecker (it’s
almost the size of a crow). After
snowshoeing in, I heated some water over my Emberlit stove for a cup of hot
cocoa. Cindy and I are now wrapping up
the day by watching the opening ceremony of the
PyeongChang Olympic Winter Games. For
the next 18 days we’ll be able to watch people from around the world who also
enjoy the activities associated with the snow, cold, and ice.
It’s
a day of cloudless, blue skies. To my
left, and south, is the sun. It’s just
shy of 50 degrees today, warm enough that spiders have been out; their evidence
is left in their strands of webbing that catch sunlight as they dance in the
slight breeze. It’s a January thaw for
sure. Ahead of me, to the west, I can
hear the geese. They are no doubt floating
the river; the river I won’t be able to get to today. I’m still a half mile from its banks and have
been held back by the flooded backwaters.
I wish now that I had packed my hip boots. I wouldn’t have been denied. I had temporarily toyed with the idea of
taking off my winter boots, slipping my feet into some plastic grocery bags I
had brought along for just such an occasion, and then lace my boots back
up. I would have been able to move
through relatively shallow water without getting my feet and socks wet in the
still cold water. This present flooding
after the week’s rain and snowmelt, however, would have gone over the tops of
my boots, and I still had to cross a meandering creek before reaching the river
itself. Perhaps the next time I’m out
here I’ll haul along the extra, and necessary, gear to carry out that
endeavor. To my right, and north, a “murder”
of crows must be harassing an owl; they are raucous and carrying on like they
do when they’ve discovered a raptor and are trying to blow its cover.
One of The spiders Crawling Across My Journal
Earlier
a herd of deer bounded through the water and marsh grass to the southwest. I also saw an eagle circling in the easy air currents
before drifting off behind me to the east by southeast. At my back, and east, is a silver maple. Most of the trees surrounding me are of this
species, but I also see some ironwood and have spotted a couple of
sycamores. I knew these sycamores were somewhere
nearby as they had dropped their tell-tale leaves; big and broad and just a little
smaller than a dinner plate.
Nuthatches,
chickadees, and a northern flicker provide background sounds, accompanied by
the rhythmic pecking of a hairy woodpecker and the booming from a pair of
barred owls. These are the serenading
calls of comfort and familiarity, and for that I am thankful.
CLICK FOR THE VIDEO:
I
needed a solo outing today. I needed to
engage in a place where my soul can sing and I can immerse myself wholeheartedly. If I had an entire day of this, from early
morning until late at night, I would probably border on calling it a vision
quest. I need the refueling. All of us do from time to time to do what we
do with any amount of passion. I’d say, “With
any amount of rigor” if I dared, but I won’t.
Passion sounds better and rigor seems too much like someone else’s
ill-advised goals being enforced upon me.
Rigor tips the scales towards the side of bondage, and so I’m sticking
with passion. Passion involves the heart
and the whole person. Passion is
holistic in that way.
For
this reason I’ll simply spend a few hours here.
Sitting on a nylon lined blanket with my dog Kora, I’m on a little,
round knoll about a foot up off the level of the water. It’s just big enough for Kora, and I, and the
massive silver maple I mentioned earlier.
It’s all good company. I imagine
this knoll is the remains of a once overturned tree stump, now reduced to a slightly
raised bump in the midst of this lowland forest.
Kora’s
been staring back towards the east, along the worn deer trail we had followed
in, and that extends now under my feet.
About a half hour after first sitting down to write, two people came
fairly close behind me. I think they may
have seen Kora’s head peaking around the trunk of the tree, and backed off and
disappeared after that. On outings like
this I try hard to avoid people, so it’s fine with me. Solitude can be a good thing when one wants
to think, relax, and/or write.
Typically
I would have come out earlier today, but I first wanted to run a few miles with
a friend, and then I wanted to come out after the sun had warmed the
Earth. I’ll go out in any kind of
weather, but it’s exciting to soak up some vitamins from the sun in January. This is especially true when I want to
journal, and hold onto a pen without having to wear my big, leather mittens.
I’m
lying on my side now, with Kora beside me; it’s all about getting comfortable I
guess. Presently the breezes have
extended into a slight wind and the branches are rattling together. Sunlight shines on the waxy, earthbound leaves
surrounding my blanket. Poison ivy
shoots extend up out of the ground on either side. This would not be a place to spend much time
during any of the warmer seasons.
It’s
times like today where I wonder if I could ever do do this type of thing for a
living. Not that someone would pay me
for the solitude aspect, but the outing itself; bringing others into the great
out of doors. Perhaps it could happen as
a second job, or something to fill in the gaps in retirement. I love the planning, the preparation of the
gear, and getting others into wild surroundings. I’d still save my favorite destinations for
special, solo outings such as this. It
would be about the experience, not the specific location. Getting out into nature; sensing it,
capturing it in words or photos, and immersing oneself into what it has to
offer, is worthy of sharing. It’s worthy
of sharing with those who have similar interests, and connections, and would
appreciate both the outing and the experiences that it has to offer. It’s also worthy of sharing with those who
have no connections what-so-ever, but are willing to risk the chance to attempt
a relationship with the natural world. I
suppose it’s something to dream about.
Until then, I’ll continue to soak up today’s sun, and the sneak peak of
springlike conditions this January thaw is providing.
This
afternoon it finally snowed enough for me to break out my cross-country
skis. I went out to a local forest preserve
to hit their trails. From the look of
the tracks, only one other person had been out there before me, and we actually
went in separate directions after the first mile. In the open areas along the prairies the snow
was deep enough to get a glide going with each push forward. In the hilly, wooded areas, where it was a
little more protected, there was a little less snow. The depth of the snow would have been more
than sufficient with a base of some sort, but without it my skies often times
caught bare ground underneath. The
result was a live demonstration of several of Newton’s Laws of Motion. An object in motion stays in motion unless
acted upon by a force (skis stick, body lurches forward). For every action there is an equal and
opposite reaction (body falls forward and slams into the ground, air is forced
from lungs).
CLICK FOR VIDEO:
Anyways,
this day is not so much about me, as it was to reflect on simply being
outside. While skiing I reflected on our
time together as a family over the holidays.
I also thought about the two separate times I took both of my kids out
to the woods. It was a time to connect,
cook a meal, and share an experience together.
It’s something that helps me see the passage of time, the progress made,
and the growth that is happening before my very eyes.
Enjoy
the pictures and videos of our adventures; first with Todd on
Thursday, December 28th before he left to go overseas, and then with
Jodi on Sunday, January 7th before she went back to college.
See
you along The Way…
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Todd's Outing - December 28th, 2017
Kora Watching From Her Blanket On A Cold Morning
CLICK FOR VIDEO:
CLICK FOR VIDEO
Pics from the Past (February 5th, 2005)
One Of Todd's First Cookouts - We've Come So Far!
An Egg Cooked In An Orange Peel As Kati Spots Something : )
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Jodi's Outing - January 7th, 2018
CLICK FOR VIDEO:
CLICK FOR VIDEO:
Pics from the Past (March 5th, 2005)
Like The Picture Above - Creatively Dreaming On Her First Winter Outing
