The ephemeral creek that runs through portions of the Bent Twig Trail is full of water following the recent rains. The presence of water in this creek is often an indication that spring is around the corner. Although I didn’t hear the wood frogs that are already adding their duck like squawking to some parts of Bernheim, I did take a few minutes to enjoy a bit of trickling creek music.
Have you ever wondered what makes that sound so appealing? I like to imagine that it’s the part of our genetic memory that wakes up, listening, way down in our DNA, something deep inside that feels the old comfort and security that nearby sources of fresh water must have represented. Surely this is also why we love watching a blazing campfire. It is just so elemental.
In the summer of 1988, I was living in Brandenburg, Kentucky and we experienced a long deep drought. I watched my neighbors’ fields turn brown and brittle, I felt the June grass crunch beneath my feet, and watched my own carefully planted garden shrivel. I promised myself that I’d never again complain when it rained. I have keep that promise. While I admit to rejoicing when a program or event doesn’t get rained out, I still know better than to curse such a gift. I’ve learned to appreciate water and rain on a new, but perhaps ancient, primal level. With any luck we will have plenty of rain this spring, and sometimes it won’t be convenient. I hope we can all celebrate this sacred and necessary element regardless.
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