Markheffron2, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, joins the keeper in observing the downstream nature of all things, and in considering how the moving water of flowing streams has been such a powerful source of pleasure through his many years.
From boyhood nights alone on Miller Creek, to being buffeted by the strength of the great Wolf River with good friends, to stepping into too-deep holes on the Mecan or Black Earth creeks, to abortive attempts to float the Wisconsin River, to wonderful journalistic adventures on the Mississippi, to now visiting flowing places to absorb their timelessness and beauty, and to listen to the gurgling songs that are sung for all things and everyone.
The keeper has necessarily given away the tools and trinkets that made possible a lifetime of literally wading into the watery flows, and he now must be content with sitting on the riverbanks to watch and listen.
That’s not bad—simply an illustration of how it is naturally “downstream” for everything, including Kickass and the keeper who is astounded at what a fast-water ride it has been and hopes it goes on for a while.
Whenever someone waxes poetic or sentimental about streamlife, I can’t help get a little misty myself. As someone who is well beyond halfway downriver himself, I feel a camaraderie with fellow drifters. Words are somehow superflous on the bank of a river but they serve to draw my mind there when I see them on my screen. Thank you.
True that, Mark. Although the sound of running water sometimes makes me want to stream myself, I do find it very relaxing.