I've spent many hours with this river in the desert. I have braved frosty, silent winters and crunched through the ice just to listen to the little river bubble it's song. The rivers speckled inhabitants glide motionless near the bottom, surfing cold quicksilver waters, surviving. Spring brings birds and buds and ticks. I pause often to admire the spring flowers that paint the banks crisp green, sulfur and pink. My waders disappear into muddy waters that scoured the bank, tearing down cottonwood trees in a rush to the Snake. Summer brings feverish growth but I pout in frustration as demand for water drops the river's flow to a trickle. My chunky speckled trout retreat or die and water become silent and warm. I must wait impatiently for fall and it's fading colors, for it's cool nights, for frost and the rebirth of my favorite river. Each year I fear my desert trout will not return but with my gratitude..they do!
No comments:
Post a Comment