Friday, October 9, 2015

river apples

Elliott and I had some just us time on the river this week.  With siblings busy, and therefore boring, and doing homework in the house, I took one look at his unsettled face and body and suggested a river paddle.  He had his shoes on and was headed down to the river before I had finished my sentence.

I chased him down the river bank.

And remembered the kayaks were at the top of the bank, moved there earlier in the week to get them away from the flooding river.  Moving them up had not been easy.  But Nicholas had helped me.  I considered asking him for help.  But that seemed unsupportive of homework.  So...

I dragged them down the stairs, pulling in some places and holding them from sliding down too fast in others.  

And then, in a full sweat and wondering if I should have instead offered a board game, we were down there.  And it was, of course, the best suggestion I could have made.

We checked out the debris left behind by the high waters.

Figured out how to maneuver around the many tangles, many of these spots even more tangled than they were before the flooding what with new branches and trees washed down the river and trapped there.

And admired colors reflected in brown muddy water.

Then Elliott spotted it. A crab apple tree, with big red and sweet apples on it.  So instead of placing your ladder in just the right place, typically an uneven tippy precarious place, to get those lovely apples high up in the tree, you maneuvered your kayak into the branches of this crab apple, branches half submerged still by the high waters and covered in dried river silt.  

If you can imagine the feeling right now of standing atop a ladder in an orchard stretching, reaching, pulling for apples just out of your reach, imagine now the feeling of the ground beneath your feet not being a solid tipping ladder, but instead a floating, skittering, bobbing, kayak.  It was kind of fabulous, that feeling.

Apples picked and filling our laps, we did a bit more exploring.

Scared up lots of ducks and a great blue heron.  And then headed back toward home.

Where someone was home from work.  And enjoying a few moments of quiet in this unbelievably beautiful urban landscape.  And waiting to help make that trip back up the bank a little less exhausting.

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