Friday, June 18, 2010
High-Water Dawn: Symbol of Hope
This is great quote recently left in my comments by my esteemed fellow blogger, Troutbirder (http://baron-troutbirder.blogspot.com/). We seem to have little in common except a love of German Shepherds, but he's a hero of mine.
Troutbirder was the very-first non-family person to leave me a comment when I began blogging. I started writing "Between the Lines" to help get myself through the lowest point in my life. By clicking on the link to Troutbirder's blog, I then found some of his favorites. Thus I was delivered from blogging in the darkness of cyberisolation into the light of this good man's circle of many fine blogging friends.
The ongoing support of the blogging community has been very helpful to me since I lost my husband and my mom. The fact that some of my "followers" are from foreign countries blows my mind. Wow, I'm global!
So thanks again, Troutbirder, and thanks for the quote you sent recently, which I posted above. I've no clue who Roger Tory Peterson is, but I think he hits the nail on the head quite squarely here.
As I've grappled to come to terms with my life after it was turned upside down and shaken hard a year ago, it's been my intimate encounters with Nature that have lifted my spirits more than anything. Luckily, I live where Nature at her finest is right outside my door.
The river below my house is currently putting on its annual dramatic display of incredible strength. Although it's controlled by a dam just upriver from me, the river is hauling ass right now, flowing by me at what looks like 100 mph.
It's high water. I love to listen to the river's low roar; it lightens into chattering rapids during the rest of the year. I find it amazing to watch the river flex its rippling muscles, fueled by melting snow from nearby mountains known as "spring run-off."
Seeing the sun come up is another scene I like to watch. Dawn is a very welcome sight for those of us who often battle our way through the night, alone. Early one morning not long ago when I stepped out onto my deck to greet the dawn and watch the river, I was impressed by an ethereal view.
The temperature had dropped below the freezing mark the night before, so steam was rolling up from the water, creating a divinely inspirational scene, which I snapped with my Canon to share with you here.
I apologize for having been absent for so long during a difficult first-anniversary period I've endured recently. But here I am; I made it. The river is still running downhill -- full blast, at the moment -- the sun will come up again in the morning --- and I am going to be all right.
I have a number of things I still want to show you and tell you about on my blog. The ideas are all still intact, don't worry, they haven't burned dry in the big cast-iron pot on the back burner of what's left of my mind.