Story-A-Day #131: Rusty River

RUSTY RIVER

Looking past the pock marked cement guardrail that lined the narrow old bridge, he could see the narrow snake of the river winding off across the small field of wildflowers and wind tossed grass, and through the trees.

He peered over the edge at his reflection in the soft current, the clear blue skies muddled by the rusty water.

It wasn’t actually rusty, that much he could tell. The odd bronze colour was most likely due to the composition of the riverbed; soft, brown sand flecked with specks of iron pyrite.

He walked around the end of the bridge and along the pathway that followed the bank of the creek. Patches of blue, orange, white and yellow wildflowers poked out through the gently rolling grass that lined the path and a subtle floral aroma wafted up around him.

He waded through the grass to the edge of the creek sending a handful of invisible frogs on a splashy retreat. An old shopping cart was marooned on a small sandbank in the middle of the creek, an ugly testament to the impact of man on the environment.

Yes the creek wound through the heart of the city, but it didn’t make a difference in the bigger scheme of things. He had been in the middle of the forest and found old mattresses, discarded appliances, and mounds of shredded trash bags.

He continued along the trail, keenly aware of the encroaching sound of traffic. He focused intently and the noise soon faded, a conscious masking of manmade noise. He watched a squirrel skitter along the path in little bursts, low sprints interrupted by periodic moments where it would scan the surroundings from an upright position on its hind legs.

Several species of small birds darted through the clearing, a flurry of wing flaps and intermittent song filling the air. It was nice to have these enclaves of natural delight in the midst of the concrete and steel of the city. It provided a momentary respite from the generic cycles of the working world.

The path ended at a busy street and the creek flowed into a large cement tunnel that passed under the road. He was tempted to follow the water into that dark recess and trace it to its eventual destination; to keep wandering until he reached the end, but he had places to be and people to see.

He would meet up with the rusty river again, just not today.