One of the things I loved about Calgary was our rivers. I am delighted by water of any kind, and so imagine my excitement when I learned that there was a river within walking distance of our new home in Texas. Shortly after we arrived I went to explore and found a dried up riverbed with only a few pools of very tepid water. We’ve moved enough times that I have learned beauty can be found anywhere, but I was still a little disappointed that for my morning walks I wouldn’t be able to walk to a river. Instead I settled for the soccer field beside the river. It was green and I could watch the sunrise, and there was a cow pasture beside it with an old log full of magic. That might sound odd but truly, the log is so wonderful that it is not unusual to see people stopping to snap photos of it.
My kids and I often go to the dried up river bed because it’s a delightful place that affords many an adventure. We have walked far downstream, almost to the train bridge that crosses overtop. However, for some odd reason, we had never gone upstream. Until this week, that is. I was walking with a friend and I invited her to explore with me, and so we walked the trail beside the river and rounding the corner came to a pool of water. It was quite far in the distance and the trail ended so we headed back to the loop around the soccer fields, but I knew that I would be back as soon as possible.
Friday morning dawned foggy and mysterious and my walk was cloaked in wonder. Skirting around the dewy soccer field, I found the trail down to the river, venturing further than ever before and then stopping short in sheer surprise.
What door had I stepped through? How was it possible that this land of magic had been directly on my doorstep for 10 months? For over 300 days I had sat on a bench overlooking a soccer field. A soccer field, for goodness sake, and less than a one minute walk away was an entire world of delight and wonder.
I walked slowly down the pebble strewn shore, my senses unable to take it all in. First to greet me were splashes of bright red in the untidy but perfect way of wild flowers. Poppies? Here? How? I stopped to admire, marveling over their paper-like texture. Slowly leaving them, I venture down to the water’s edge. As far as I can tell, it’s not just a pool — at least it goes on far enough to disappear around the bend. The next magic to greet me is a lot of turtles. I had to google what a group of turtles is called and discover it’s a bale. There is a bale of turtles swimming in the more green than brown water in front of me.
They see me and immediately dive down, beyond my sight. The river appears to be very deep. I have learned in our short stay here that turtles are hard to sneak up on. Is this because they hear so well or do they have some other ability to sense danger? When I read about them I learn that they can’t hear well, but they have very good sight and that they actually see more colors than humans, especially loving red, orange, and yellow. I hold as still as possible for a time and they come back to the surface, their rounded noses poking out for air.
My curiosity gets the best of me and I stop watching the turtles to walk up river. On my side the shore is broad and covered with pebbles and small cracked open muscles. Someone has been having a feast. Across the river there are rock cliffs and massive boulders. Some of them perfectly flat on top and I imagine when the river is full and flowing these would make tremendous rocks to leap off. It’s a playground.
Not only are there cliffs across from me but these rock faces are nearly hidden by the jungle of a hundred shades of green. It has been raining a lot this spring and it shows in the absolute lushness on display. As I take it all in, my body nearly bursting with awe, I hear a cracking that I am familiar enough with to know as large game of some kind. Sure enough. She emerges, ears pricked, and staring directly at me. I slowly sit on the pebble strewn beach and wait for her to trust me enough to go about her feeding. Soon she walks on and then another emerges and another. I have never seen deer so small as Texas deer. But I am familiar with their patterns and these behave the same as any deer I’ve ever known. Eating, bounding, pausing, staring, eating again, tails to the sky, showing the white underside. I sit for a long time, watching, marveling, and then turning to look upstream, wondering if I should explore further.
I see him then. Perched on a large boulder in the river, towering, magnificent. He is some distance away but not far enough to hide his blue beauty. Slowly I stand, and walk toward him with as much stealth as one can on crunchy gravel. Closer and closer, until I can see him clearly. He sees me of course and doesn’t allow too much familiarity before spreading his great wings and soaring upriver to land on a safer rock.
My heart is bursting — exploding actually — with joy upon joy. I keep marveling over and over to Papa that “this was here the whole time. I can’t believe this has been here the whole time.”
There is a sob in my chest. This all reminds me of the often hidden beauty of the soul. It, too, has been there the whole time . . . just waiting to be found.
More, please! What a beautiful journey and your reflections of it. I would have sobs of wonder and gratitude, too. What a vicarious joy to close my eyes and see ...
Just beautiful, thank you for taking me along on your journey of wonder with you.