Saturday, 28 May 2016
Here’s the ___ River at Mead Creek. In my distracted mind, it’s the Fox River and a few miles and more bends downstream from where Hemingway had Nick Adams fish. But it’s not the Fox. Well, Nick Adams didn’t exist, either….
A cluster of birches on the bluff above “our” lake…sturdy against the wind. This morning was a bit rainy (and the landscape needs the rain—dry spring), and the afternoon turned into clear and windy.
And the wind piled the waves inshore…but not as far as I had feared. The beach is holding its own….
This isn’t truly water, only a reflection in the brass chest my uncle made. Looks rather like water, however….