The River Giveth and the River Taketh Away

Just spent some time down on the land, walking our old path and marveling, yet again, at the destruction wrought by the icy rampage of late February.

This picture is just a tiny, tiny taste of the land we lost as the ice gouged a new width to its channel. Over at our swimming rocks, the land has been sheered away so dramatically, we're not even sure we can get down to them at all. We may, for all intents and purposes, be cut off from the river this summer.

At the very least, we're looking at clambering up and down a ladder to get to the water where we once used to hop from the bank to the stone.

And yet there are signs of some hope that we may regain some of what we've lost though it will be in the river's own good time before we'll know for sure. The ice that took away our access to the water also brought down a sizable chunk of the concrete foundation of what was once a roller skating rink on our property. A couple of trees came down as well, their roots still anchored in the bank.

Since then, debris has collected there, and that is the hopeful sign.

You see, we've watched this before upstream where two trees—box elders—went over the bank but kept their roots in the ground. Within a year, they each strained tons of silt from the water, creating new land that is now attached to the riverbank. This land is now covered with willow and cattails and other plants. In the summer, the growth is so thick, it's just about impossible to walk there.

So that is the hope, that the concrete and trees start a new cycle of rebuilding. But like I said, that process is done on river time.