as I ran. I saw
people the path but more I went back in time. To long before Lnae I was back
living on the river. I could hear the river talking loud to the boulders and
quick currant then it quite, a gentle murmur in the background. I saw a Yellow
tail Zebra butterfly from the corner of my eye. I kept going and so did my
thoughts. The river, and island and the only way to get to it was by a log. I
stayed on that island watching the small purple bells Heliotropes grow then bloom
all along the back bank. You could see river from here, and we had our own
little private sandy beach stretching for 60 feet with some poor log caught in
the storm from the 2004 wedged deep so we used it as a diving platform when the
kids came. The pits Romeo and Echo would be stirring the water in dashes and Romeo
chasing anything that floated, mainly sticks we threw but sometimes, he would
just go for wave crests The morning I
could hear the Osprey diving for breakfast or in turn the trout breaching and
doing the same. Every once and a while a boat would pass, on drifting, tubers
in bunches, college students people with lives, but we all shared the river I thought. I read great books by the masters,
"War and Peace", and Dickens, living a simple life. I would go up and spend some days on the path,
but the days by the river were the best. I could go days at a time without
leaving if I had enough, food and water. I would see the ducks as they hatched
from their brood on the other end of the Isle, Mom made sure to keep them all
in line as they camped on shore overnight. Little yellow fuzz balls all a
scurry., and mom more worried about her delinquent children to one of the other
know occupants of the isle. You see, from the frogs, ducks, to the raccoons,
and the very sneaky rat, I mean unbelievably sneaky because sometimes I be
sitting in the dark waiting for him with a flash light. I would never see that
sneak but I would be able to catch glimpse of what he was grabbing whether he got it or not in the dance at night;
I was part of the island. The Great Gray
Heron moved in and we would watch each other from the shore of our little isles,
for his was smack dab in center just below me in the river a smaller isle with
very tall trees . I would watch him fish for a while and as all things he would
become used to me and be busy about his work. Life on the river was slow but
had a definite turn to it, a time of passing.
I would return always in summer. The Great Gray Heron had a
mate this year and I stood watching from the beach still as it was the year
before purple towers of bells and blue carpet of small clover like flowers. He
then erupted from his perch high above the River with his mate and dove in a
great sweeping arc towards my side of the river then turned towards me and he
and his mate flew, drifted, floated by
above my head by just twenty feet up or so, and went back to his perch.
I stood and reached my arms wide as I had done many times before when he had
made good dive and scored a good fish,
but this time I let loose a deep resonate sound, a sound so long in essence in
deepness of emotional, a primal sound, one of honor. I honored the river.
You can still see this isle, and I bet most of you have
because if you have stood on the VRC foot bridge and looked down river, it is
right there in plain sight.
for Chef Julie
Chef John aka THOR
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