The river running right past our town is to me a talisman; a soothing, calming presence as well as inspirational. As much as I love road trips, the river is the ultimate road, beckoning with a greater sense of freedom, an elemental appeal that tarmac and concrete just can't match. It provides an endless parade of color, light and activity. Ships, marine life and a vast array of flotsam and jetsam ride past in its currents. The skies above are reflected on its surface. At any one time, you will find shades of blue, gray, or the reds of sunset and rise reflected in its ripples and waves.
This river is the very reason "we" are here. It is the core of this region, a magnetic presence even before we were here. Consequently, I feel that it's important to maintain broad access to the river. Visually, physically, as well as practically. Fishing and pleasure vessels use it constantly. Even on a grey, low-ceilinged day, it is a focal point. From the streets and sidewalks laid out over the hills of town, it's where the eye naturally settles, and inevitably follows Westward to where the river meets the sea. Dreams follow suit. A mental cleansing, of sorts.
Very often, it is pivotal in turning around my mood. Sitting still, watching the tide flow past is meditative in nature. Even the smell of a clean river is something irresistable to me.
Last night, on our way back from the beach at sunset, the river called me to its side. A barely audible whisper I could not even so ignore. It had turned to liquid black, reflecting a glittering array of lights. The night was calm, clear, as it settled into the region. To the west, a sublime stripe of maroon and persimmon burned horizon objects into sharp relief. Opposite, low in the eastern sky, a magnifed, mellow, golden moon held court over snow-sprinkled hills. Ships sat quietly at anchor. I felt a surge of equanimity as I observed and became part of this magical landscape.
Every sense felt renewed, my psyche soothed. I was gratefully overwhelmed, immersed in the beauty laid out before me. The liquid lane beckoned. It would be cold, though.
I started my truck, and reluctantly backed away.
Maybe some other time.
I did take with me some fodder for daydreams, and other mental meanderings.
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3 comments:
One of the prerequisites of purchasing a house here was that I had to be able to see the river from somewhere on the property. I have this amazing 95 year old attic window that swings out in my master bedroom, and from there, I get a wide view of the Columbia. Whenever I need to recharge, I just go upstairs, fling open the window, look at the river and breathe. Just seeing it makes a difference.
Ahh. Lucky girl!
My mom had a house overlooking the Uniontown district, and right near the bridge (near the Short Circuit house). I lived in the attic for a while, and loved my room overlooking the river, too.
We live way in the H out here in Olney, now. Can't see the river (well, a teeny bit of the Youngs in the wake of the December Hurricane), but it ain't the same!
This is a great place for living...
I was landlocked for 15 years in Butte County, CA. Beauty of it's own, of that there is no doubt, but being able to see the end of the continent when I like makes me feel lighter somehow.
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