Over fields it comes - the sound of rushing water - winding through lichen-covered
trunks, silvery branches and mossy stones. I bend to earth to free tulip shoots from beneath a dense layer of oak leaves, images of spiraling whirlpools, fast moving
water and smooth, rounded stones dancing in my imagination.
The water calls to me, to share in spring exuberance. Deep muddy ruts make
the road to the swimming hole almost impassable, and a new log here and there -
remnants of recent torrential rains.
Winter ice flows and the spring melt have re-arranged the beach. The wind is calm,
but the river's rushing dictates the excited mood down here.
Once the river turns the bend, the banks widen, the water slows and begins a gentle meander towards the gorge. I am fascinated with what's below and how the light
moves on the water's surface.
Wandering the beach, I fill a bag with stones, trying to hum the overtone I
hear the river singing. Light, water and flow patterns fill me with wonderings.
Back in the moss garden, patterns marked on stones echo the forces that
shaped them, before a giant plucked them from the shore and spirited them
away.....
The forest emerging from winter shares the flow patterns, but not the pace.
Slow growth and emerald greening is a quiet contrast to the distant rushing river
sounds.
Deep in the woodlands, still water collects in pools, and asks me to
sit and reflect a while.
cling to shady northern spots around the yard. Finally, though, it seems that
spring has sprung.
I've been in a mad dash to clear away the leaves, as many of the tulips pierced
right through them, strangling themselves until I released them from bondage.
They are a bit dented in places from plowing through on their reach for the light,
but, I muse, aren't we all?
Post script: I've listed several sets of "Ancient Whisper Stones" from my river
journey in my Etsy shop, including the ones shown above. They are packed with
a bit of forest moss and magic and waiting to bring some spring flow to you or
your garden.
