When Mole came upon the river in The Wind in the Willows, he was…
“…bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.”
I know how Mole felt because everyday when I look out on my river I, myself, stare in awe at her beauty, amazed by all the stories she has told me over the years and all the secrets she has yet to reveal.
My river is by far the most beautiful of all rivers and the only place to hang my hat at the end of the day.
There are times, though, when she does challenge me, such as these past weeks when she seems intent on filling my basement. Thank Goddess for my sturdy sump pump which has been working its little heart out keeping the flood waters at bay. The rabbits are glad. You see, I built an indoor pen for them which, hopefully, will remain dry. Come on, sump pump, don’t fail me now!
I hope your soul is hopping in Summerland, Stew.
My neighbor’s yard is missing, flooded over by the river. Thanksgiving Day I was treated to an amazing sight–a juvenile Great Blue Heron stopped by to rest for a bit during his migration south.
The ducks didn’t seem to mind having him around. And, just so you know, they’re not in the river, they’re in my neighbor’s yard which happens to have the river in it too!
Since I’m on the subject of ducks, (Aw, come on, you knew I was going to mention my ducks.) the size of my flock has grown from the dozen I had about a month ago. Did I type grown? I meant to type EXPLODED!
It’s like having my own mini-caravan arriving at my border. Don’t tell Trump, but I’m letting them in without checking their visas.
Besides the influx of ducks and water, not much else is happening in my little corner of the world and I’m perfectly fine with it staying that way. Peaceful nights listening to the Great Horned Owl calling outside my bedroom window and days filled with the joy of just being. Or as Ratty said, “Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,” said the Rat. “And that’s something that doesn’t matter, either to you or me. I’ve never been there, and I’m never going, nor you either, if you’ve got any sense at all.”
Dusk on my river.
I couldn’t agree more.
Blessed be :}
Quotes are taken from The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame.