Clear Creek Nature Diary One

Clunk. A rounded granite stone makes it way one more foot down Clear Creek. It makes a sound so thick and warped as to have been painted by Salvador Dali. Above it is the persistent sound of heaven and earth rubbing up against each other, constantly flowing and changing yet remaining seemingly the same. The exchange. Heaven into earth and earth into heaven, the magical circulatory system of Gaia and of life itself.

clearcreek1My eyes are filled with green and grey with the warm brown hues filling in the spaces. Cottonwood, Oak Willow and Willows flow in a gentle breeze. The iridescent yellow leaves of early fall shimmer on the Cottonwood and the rusty red of the Scrub Oak climbs its way up the grey body of the mother Cottonwood across the creek. The green moss underneath only serves to add contrast to the splendor.

This is my new home, my back yard for the winter. I can breath again. As I do the fresh, yet musty, smell of the late summer on the canyon floor fills my senses. There is no separation between the sent and myself. It fills me and I fill it. We both enjoy this breeze of delight.

Sand between my toes. This sand used to be the rock that lines the banks and forms the creek bed. The rock that used to be a part of the mountain that used to be a part of the deep earth. The earth, made up of multitudes of other galactic forms, within in the infinity of the universe. One of infinite universes. So, here I sit, infinity within infinity. Inscrutable within in inscrutability. Completely connected to everything, yet utterly alone.

Chem. trails stream behind the jets flying high overhead and the distant song from the ice cream truck drifts by. Friendly conversation is punctuated by the clink of dog tags. A child cries in agonizing surprise after falling off the swing almost a quarter of a mile away. My mind turns to thoughts of my six-year-old daughter whom I have not seen in two years.  How I miss being there for each of those moments; for her life. I become present to my deep watery state.

The shadow of a trout dashing from one form of cover to another under the water wakes me up again. I give thanks for the wake up call, slip on my slippers and return to my daily duties.

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