J&J's Mom was kind enough to "nominate" one of my posts to repost in honor of my blogoversary. This post is entitled "Splash", and never actually appeared here on Mommy Matters. I wrote it as a guest post for Trucker Bob. (Stop by his new site and say hello - tell him I sent you!)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~SplashSplash...
Splash...
What is it about tossing rocks into a river? It's hypnotic. Sitting on
the river bank, listening to the water rush by. There by the edge the
water moves slowly, and you can hear it gurgling between the rocks,
worn smooth over hundreds of years. There in the mountains where the
air is clean you can actually smell the water, its coolness filling
your lungs. It wakes you up and relaxes you all at once.
Splash...
Splash...
I loved throwing rocks as a young child - back when my parents would
take me camping. My brother and I would throw rocks into even the
smallest of streams to hear that sploosh as the water swallowed up the
rock. My dad taught us how to skip rocks on the lake.
Splish.. splish.. splash
We'd toss them in and watch the ripples fade away to nothing. We'd
listen to the different sounds each rock made upon the water.
Splash...
I still love to throw rocks into the water. I watch my rock settle to
the bottom. I watch the sun dance on the surface, playing games with
the shadows on the river bottom.
Splash...
It's innate I think - this fascination. We recently took our children
up the mountain for a picnic dinner, and they were instantly drawn to
the river bank. Immediately rocks were gathered in their tiny fists
and tossed in. I watched them as they started to play the same games
my brother and I did, without any instruction or guidance.
Of course as children the only explanation we have is "It's fun". As
an adult, I see much more. I see the rocks in the river, worn away
over time. Those rocks have been there longer than anyone has been
around to sit and watch them. Perhaps those same rocks looked back at
Lewis and Clark as they made their trek toward the West Coast. Maybe
they saw the herds of buffalo come through here, back when it wasn't
something special to see a buffalo in the wild. Being out in the
wilderness is like stepping back in time in a way.
Being out here also puts you back in touch with nature. As adults it's
easy to overlook if we let ourselves, but seeing it through my
children's eyes I saw the wonder and excitement they saw. They bring
all the sights and sounds of nature to my attention – the ones that I
have grown use to after 30 years of growing up here. We take these
things for granted, you know. We sit in our cars and drive right past
the animals that call these places home. Past the wildflowers that
grow out of the crevasses in the rock. Past the seedlings pushing
their way out of the ground wiped away by fire just a year before.
Sometimes we miss so much of the picture because we don't take the
time to examine the details.
But not today. Today I sit on a rock, next to a river, smelling the
pine trees and the wind. I listen to the birds up above, and the
rustling of the leaves, and laughter coming from somewhere downstream.
No, it's not my children. It's me, 20 years ago, throwing rocks into
the water - because its fun.
Splash....
