This morning I woke early. Could hear the sound of fast-moving water even with the storm windows down. When I opened the door in Jim's office to listen through just a screen the NOISE of the water's movement was exhilarating.
The picture above faces upstream/northeast. Below faces west. The stream doesn't run in a straight line; it veers sharply to the right at a 45 degree angle. My plan to follow and photograph where it goes after it leaves the farm's barnyard has been thwarted for the day. There's a missing link in what I've documented so far - a place close enough that there's no excuse not to go and complete one section of our local watery network.
Today was a good one to spend some time standing quietly with swiftly moving water. It's mesmerizing to listen and watch. The longer I stand doing just that the more clear it grows that water is inevitably and organically true to itself. Since beginning this impulsive follow-where-it-goes project I've had days and a couple of evenings when I found it hard to think of anything else. To want to think about anything else.
When I first went outside the cow featured in the Grandfather Hickory post was standing right at the pool where our stream re-appears from the culvert. I could see she was waiting for the pool to fill just so before she drank. Or maybe she waited for the white water bubbles to settle before lowering her head to the surface. I watched her having her post-rain morning outside. Then turned my attention to an evergreen on our property that's been calling my attention quite a lot in recent weeks. Don't think I'll live long enough to learn something about every tree here. But I'm doing my best not to sleep walk too much of the time.
While I was searching for the above image to close out the post with a quick shift back to Green and Balmy I realized I've yet to stand in the stream. It's always seemed so forward and presumptuous to even imagine doing such a thing...