I’ve always liked the word “confluence” for the fact that, if I could see and hear through the wall in front of me, I’d experience the joining music and rush of Goose Creek where it merges with Nameless Creek.
Both of “our” creeks are jump-across-able streams alone; together they gain breadth and depth, power and voice.
So I woke up this morning with a gentle rain on the metal roof overhead and have been spinning over and over this notion of flowing together. It is uncertainties and ideas, fears and hopes of my neighbors that are coming together now in an exciting, bewildering, hopeful confluence.
So I’ll get these water/pipeline/convergence bits out of my head all at once, and you’ll see way too many versions of Goose Creek Mill Dam–a place that represents for me the coming together of human history and need that find its story along waterways, as is so very often the case.
And here, at Medium, an essay that was published in the Floyd Press on Thursday and Roanoke Times yesterday, in the event that you might want to read it again, or for the first time. [It’s a BIG image, so scroll down to see the text.]
I’m done. Tomorrow, maybe mushrooms!