Memories of Willow’s, Creeks, and Fun Times

American Beaver

Image via Wikipedia

I was over at Robin Easton’s blog, Naked in Eden, yesterday.  She had a fun little video she took of a boy jumping on a trampoline during a rain storm.  The youngster was having a grand old time and getting soaked in the process.    It made me think back to when I was about 11 or 12.  My brothers and I would go down to the creek behind our house, and “Walk the River”.  This of course entailed walking in the river for as far as we could manage. 


We would find ourselves in a deep pond, of a little bit of rushing rapids.  Keep in mind, this was really not much more than a creek, and loaded with willows and beaver dams. Trout were plentiful, and you could see them swimming through the crystal clear waters.  The creek bed was mostly water washed and tumbled rocks, with a little bit of mud here and there.  There were old tailings from many different placer mine operations of years past, and huge piles of washed rocks.  The willow bushes with their red or orangeish looking stalks with green leaves, lined the creek on either side.


The fun part about the willows were they were very pliant, and whip like when held back to wait for your brother to walk by.  Simply let go of the Willow branch, and be rewarded with the loud slap of the Willow striking those who walked too close behind.  I can remember giving my brothers a few red whelps with these Willow branches, and of course receiving my fair share also.  We would spend all day down at the creek, playing and exploring.  Our imaginations would take us on safari in Africa, or exploring the Amazon.  When I think back, it’s kind of funny, because at 10,000 foot elevation, the water is anything but warm.  How we ever dreamed up some of the adventures we went on I’ll never know. 


Of course by the time we got home, we were soaked from head to foot, and usually covered in mud or dirt.  I can remember a few times that Mom made us take our clothes off in the back entry, right beside the washer so she could wash them.  For some reason I don’t remember her getting to mad, but she was upset about the added work for her.  I guess she just accepted that boys will be boys.

Enhanced by Zemanta

No comments:


Blog Widget by LinkWithin