River and Fields
Yesterday we drove around to find a place for a nature walk somewhere near the river, which isn’t far from us. We live only a couple of miles from the Tennessee River, and there are all kinds of wonderful parks in three directions from us with river views and trails. On the way we always pass open fields with a hedgerows and tree lines.
We ended up at a park near Wilson Dam and walked for a little while through the woods.
Then on the way back we stopped so I could take a picture or two of “my river.”
These last two pictures were taken from the same spot. All I did was turn to my right to photograph the slough, which is lined with homes that are mostly hidden in the trees. When I was little, my aunt and uncle had a place on this slough. Where you see a concrete walkway with a railing, there used to be only a pile of big rocks leading down to the water. This holds a fond childhood memory as well, of my Dad taking me fishing off those same rocks. We would stake out our position on a huge boulder and sit for what seemed to me like hours. But I never really got tired of watching him cast his line out and reel it in, always with high hopes of a fish story to tell, and me with my little pole. We might have been risking our lives out over that big river, but I didn’t know it at the time.
Some things do remain the same. The smells, sights and sounds of a wonderful part of my childhood are right here in this spot, unchanged.