A June day.
Stifling, high heat. Where: a few miles off a highway in Kentucky. Me: a fair-skinned person who left her hat in the car. Unsuitable adornments: a long skirt, heavier than the weather warranted, a v-neck tee, and sandals with wedge heels. Italian leather, well-cushioned. Made for sustained walking excursions, albeit safe, flat city ones.
I went rogue.
Half a mile up the side of a steep hill, through a woodsy trail. Climbing, up up up, like a pack mule. Sweat-drenched. Determined. For what? A panicky attack of vertigo, and a stunning view of a river I’d only read about earlier that day.
This view, this river:
A flushed face, drenched shirt, and fear-of-heights induced inability to stand up straight? A small price to pay, all for one decent photo and a story that later made my grandma laugh (thanks, mom!).
This is my entry in the Weekly Photo Challenge: Achievement.
The view from our hotel room, with an obliging hawk soaring above the local river:
The perks to living in a river city are largely ones of aesthetics and mood and philosophy. Ambiance, if you will. Attitude. State of mind. Peace of mind. The advantages aren’t material; they’re bigger than that. More vital. Rivers are wise, yet fierce. Their beauty is quiet and chaotic, changing pace quicker than a hummingbird’s tissue-thin wings. Rivers remind me of nineteenth century English literature, or of the early twentieth century’s John Cowper Powys. Romantic, desolate, abiding. Cosmic. Or, in the words of Herman Hesse: “The river is everywhere.”