Sky and still water.

I returned to the creek today, descending to the bottom at the first possible opportunity. The recent rains had made the creek swell again, and there are puddles one must walk around—or accidentally step in. The muddy ground is uneven and I looked for handholds in the thicket growing there. Thankfully there was no poison oak to worry about; I only had to avoid the aggressive blackberry canes. I found tall marsh grasses and fennel, willow and tulip tree saplings, and even young thistles to steady myself. 

I set out to bushwhack through the creek bottom to the place of still water where I’d captured reflections earlier this spring. I fell in the muddy grasses, lay there for a minute catching my breath, then soldiered on through the thicket stomping on blackberry canes and hanging onto willow branches. 

Then I hit a wall of thicket against a steep hill, with no way through to my destination. I was forced to bushwhack backwards up the hill to the gravel trail through a mass of blackberry canes, laughing at my folly. Once back on the trail, I found the more direct entry to the spot I’d been searching for, and dove back down again to the creek bottom. 

When I fell on muddy grass for the second time, I considered how despite slipping, I was caught by the earth. It was here for me, supporting me.