Just a Crick

Mud Bug

Hand made things are better
Today we put on the crick that crosses the farm. It was dark all day, and still, with wet snow falling, making quiet little tinkles as it landed on the water. It was good to breathe the river's air. This place on the crick widens out with a muck bottom so deep a ten foot pole touches nothing solid. In the summer it chokes with grasses, but now it's open. It always has it's own life, different than the rest of the crick. Just downstream from here another stream flows into it. It has very sweet tasting water--cold all summer and never freezes in the winter. Every river has its own taste and scent. But this one's my favorite, because I grew up on it.

CanoeingInSnow.jpeg
 
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