I'm dreaming of being in the water right now, can hardly wait to dip my toes then fully immerse myself in the river. I've made a vow to myself that I'd do that this week. When I was a kid, like so many others around here, we'd spend so much time outside fondly holding leaves and branches in our hands. We'd drag them behind us making tracks in the dust. We'd pull moss from trees and catch little frogs or bugs for the wonder of their tiny little worlds. I'm missing those slow uncomplicated moments. I'm also reminded of how dirty we were at the end of each day convinced that most of our dirt was a tan until mom proved otherwise. I remember being barefooted so much that the skin between my toes would crack and that I could run on rocks and hot pavement and not feel the heat too much or the sharp points from the rocks. I do remember, however, getting stone bruises- those were no good.
ahhhh. the good ole summertime. The river takes me back, as though I'd never left.
this is from my book-a project called "A walk along the Oregon Coast vacationscape"
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