Riffles

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Some times, some moments, this place, these times are so beautiful, achingly so, that it doesn’t seem real. Often those fleeting instants have to do with flowing water–such a blessing in its music, its purity, the magic of its genesis out of oceans, rains, underground rivers.When I slow down enough to listen, I hear voices there, laughter mostly, but have not learned the language. Not yet.

6 thoughts on “Riffles”

  1. Your blog is such a breath of fresh air. I need to check back here much more often. I’m glad that all these years later, you’re still bringing these life truths to folks like me, who sometimes need reminding.

    Thanks.

  2. What? You certainly have learned the language – you speak it every time you post something here. Your words are as soothing as this rippling creek, or as exuberant as the New River. You speak moutain/creek/farm awareness – splendid!
    hugs from PA
    connie

  3. That reminds me so much of my beloved creek in WV from my childhood. I may have to steal that one for my wallpaper. Hope you don’t mind.

  4. Hi Trey, good to hear from you, and dis-connected you are–I can’t even find an old email address for you to which to reply.

    Ever get out to that special swamp of yours these days?

  5. I love your pictures.

    Having lived in your area for many years, I’m really getting homesick and can’t wait to move back home.

    In the meantime, I’m always looking for pictures of those gorgeous mountains. I have enjoyed yours very much.

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