For the first time in the almost four years of us living on this property last week I climbed down the steep bank into the creek whose beauty I marvel at daily from our windows and from the bridge in the driveway. I slowly stumbled down then bushwhacked 500 feet in and along the creek waters before scrambling back up the bank and climbing over a barbed wire fence coming out in cow field at the back of the property.
It would have been an exciting adventure (almost lost a boot in a foot deep of muck, seeing a dead opossum, and marvelling in the glorious spring season budding) if not for the circumstances given which caused me to wind up volunteering to go into the creek.
Compared to the neighbour holding a baby and the neighbour who is 7 months pregnant I was the best suited for the job, but boy was I sure winded during the whole trek.
Any ideas why I was down there?
The two little blond boys on our property (William being one of them) ran off that afternoon and we could not find them back for a whole hour. We looked through all the outbuildings and walked the perimeter of our 10 acres yelling their names with no success. So after 45 minutes I went to search the creek while the other neighbour drove up and down the road. Then the other boy's dad joined the search and must have had a stern enough voice that when they heard him calling they came out of hiding. From hiding in a barn that we had already walked through three times calling their names, but they were behind a hay bale where we didn't see them and they chose not to respond to their moms.
Never a dull moment, hey?
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