A little help from my other friends . . .

It was sunny today. I was not .

After church I came home, loaded the dishwasher and the washing machine. Then I sat down. But the sunny day was coming in the window. So I decided to leave.

I got in the truck and headed to the farm. The farm sits in a bow of the Locust Fork River northwest of Snead, Alabama. It's not so much a farm anymore. No animals, domesticated at least, and the barn has collapsed. It is on the southern edge of Sand Mountain, away from the rolling hills of Oneonta. When you are at the Bend of the River, you feel like you're away from everything, protected by the river on three sides. That is what I wanted today. To get away. To be protected.

After the obligatory stop at the Snead BP, I made my way to the farm, through the gates, and stopped the truck at the fishing pond. As I got out of my truck one of those really big birds (probably in the heron/egret/ibis family) that I usually walk up on in the river was standing at the edge of the pond. When he heard me he unfurled his huge wings and soared into the air. These birds look grey as they stand in the water, but as he flew along the edge of the tree line, the sun reflected off of his formidable wingspan, and he looked kinda blue. Not like me. I mean the color blue. He was beautiful. I wish he had not felt the need to fly away, but he did.

I walked on up the path by the pond. A big beaver was swimming with his head out of the water about 20 feet from the shore. I fumbled for my camera in my pocket, and raised it to shoot. I thought I was being absolutely quiet, but he heard me, did a half twist sort of like a solo synchronized swimmer, slapped his tail on the water, sounding like a gunshot, and disappeared under the water. I passed his stick and mud home on the way down the path. But he didn't show himself again.

After passing the pond I headed straight to the river. There are winding trails that will get you there, but I prefer to go straight through the woods. It is a lot quicker, but you have to negotiate the briars and undergrowth. But usually you get to see more wildlife. And I did. I walked up on a deer. She was surprised to see me. I was surprised to see her. All I could see was her white tail as she bounded through the woods. I don't see how she bounded through that thick undergrowth, but I doubt she could do so well in my house, so I guess I understand.

I had not been to the river since we have had the heavy rainfall. It was beautiful . . .emerald green and flowing gently. The floods had deposited mounds of new sand mountain sand all along the banks, making it difficult to keep my footing as I slipped and slid down the steep slope to the edge of the water. Only after I got down there did I consider that it might not be so easy to get back up. But I would worry about that later.

In In the fresh sands I found evidence that I was probably not alone. Clear tracks of racoons, the dogs that run the banks of the river hunting them, deer, the big heron birds, and others that I am not sure about. And there was evidence that I had scared the crap out of something as I walked up. The fresh crap was the evidence along with other evidence of freshness, and deep prints of the animal that had scrambled up the steep sand banks.

After no small effort I also scrambled up the steep sand bank and found my favorite place to sit on the river. It is on a higher place, right in the bend of the river. From there you can see upriver and downriver for a good ways. It was late in the evening by then, and when I looked downriver I could see the light of the sinking sun reflecting off the rippling water, sparkling and dancing like diamonds tossed on a marble floor. The light was too bright to look at for long so I looked upriver, where the trees and rock ledges were awash in the gold of the same setting sun. I sat very still for awhile in the quiet coolness. I always feel like it is a place that I am supposed to be.

But the sun was setting. I like walking through the woods . . .but not in the dark. So I headed back a different way through the woods. Squirrels were making noise and another deer ran away almost before I saw her. I made it back to the pond as the sun was already below the horizon. But on Sand Mountain evening lasts longer because the sky is bigger. I jumped in the truck and headed home.

Yesterday was a great day with a lot of people. But this afternoon was pretty great with no people, just the sun, the breeze, the river, and the ones who call it home.

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