Updated: Jul 27
One of my favorite things to do is to walk down to the creek every morning ... sometimes twice a day, but who’s counting?
Well actually my iPhone is counting all my steps (and missteps) so I try to be as ambulatory as I can to impress my health app!
Spying and gawking at some wildlife is part of the mischief of the creek walk.
Most days my high hopes of spotting the elusive river otters are dashed.
I’ve seen the signs, yet never that lucky enough to peep in person.
Seeing multitudes of deer, turtle, muskrat, beaver, heron, waterfowl and the likes is pretty much par for the course.
The days of high summer usually drop the creek level to a gentle, yet untamed thing of beauty.. . and it’s my chance to merrily wade out while donning Wellies.
The other day I did just that.
What a different perspective it is from standing in the midst of something as opposed to the sidelines.
Something about being in the heart of something moving and ever-changing how a completely different perspective reveals itself … simple and profound.
So naturally I thought to myself … "Self, boldly/ridiculously place some chairs in the creek".
While you’re embarking on this tomfoolery why not set some artwork in the creek, oh and don’t forget to include some pillows for good measure.
I know, why oh why?
This I cannot intelligently offer a logical explanation for except that it inspired me so…. The lazy creek, the natural surround, the glassine reflecting surface.
To place yourself in the leafy, lush, layered depths of a Hudson River-esque School painting.
I know it’s madness, but it must be realized.
Compulsion? Sure, but I listen to the voices, it’s pointless to ignore them, they will just keep nagging me until the thing is done.
Maybe I’ve been channeling the Durrells in Corfu, enjoying their meals at a well-appointed table placed in the sea.
Is this a dreamlike mirage?
Mudlarker’s paradise found?
Or simply the vision of a covered wagon mishap that lost its load and parcel mid-river?
Bits and bobs of furnishings scattered about the creek, remnants of a poorly secured payload.
I'm hoping for the former rather than the later!
You would not be too far from the bull’s-eye if you were to accuse me of being obsessed with nature.
It’s ever-inspiring, ever-changing.
The best backdrop no matter the season.
I fully expect that when the weather changes and the Mourningkill is thick with ice I may be inspired once again.