Rolling brown water. Roaring. Pounding. The coursing muddy water was everywhere and it had consumed everything in its path. This was not the same river I had affectionately called the James. There was no splattering of gray-black jumping rocks. There was no clear blue water. This was not the same river whose shores I had picnicked at. This was not the same river whose waters I had swam in. It was if it had been erased.
This muddy brown river was raw, bristling with power, and radiating strength. It was wild. My eyes found the old fallen down tree I had stood upon countless times. Water surged up against it, threatening to send it cascading away. It rocked back and forth and let forth a low creek, but was able to hold its ground.
The rapids I had gleefully jumped it had been overshadowed by bigger water. The whole river was a set of rapids.
At first I was shocked. I knew the river would be flooded, but I didn’t fully comprehend what that would entail. What I saw, was nothing I could have expected. Yet, although this was not the clear and gently flowing river I was used to seeing it was exciting and it was refreshing. It was power unleashed and truly served as a reminder that nature is not ours to control. We have constructed an illusory world in which we control the water ways. We use rivers and oceans for transportation, energy, food, entertainment, and even dumping grounds. Yet, I see now that water is a force to be reckoned with, and will not be tamed so easily. It is wholly unpredictable.
For example, against this harsh backdrop, low lying plants were sprinkled with icicles. Each branch was laced with beads of frozen water from top to bottom. This sight was simply surreal, and I could not take my eyes off it.
Nature never ceases to amaze me, not only by the raw power of the James, but that this power was used to create these delicate icicles. They are polar opposites yet one could not exist without the other.