I always miss the beginning of a stream coming to life… Does it start with a trickle, slowly growing bigger and faster? Does it come in a wave, like a tsunami down the canyon? Or seep up from below, where the flow never stopped? I keep on checking, sure that the rainfall is finally enough to make my stream come to life—but there is nothing. Then one morning, I wake to find a madly rushing flood where there was a desolate streambed hours before.
My stream shoved over a massive, dead cottonwood tree in the night. It scoured the banks, flattening all plant life. It’s a muddy, swirling mess, unfit for fish or fowl right now. But a mallard flies overhead, quacking ecstatically. The water has returned—and life will quickly follow.
Welcome to Streamriffs.com, a place for fellow creek- walkers and nature lovers. Lori Fisher Peelen lives in California with her family.