The hot, humid August
days wears me down. After hours in
the heat, I can't wait to meet up again with Mickey at a cool spot on
the river 'under the buckeye trees' at the ARK in Berea that holds a
special place in my heart. There, on the Rocky River's peaceful banks, stress fades away.
There, a soft breeze blows gently through the buckeye tree
leaves, shading the river from the intense summer sun. I hear the calls
of a Canadian Geese playing in the water by Urth Island
farther down the river. A mother duck is followed by her six ducklings
while at the same time Mr. Crane stands at attention waiting to catch a
fish in the water. Crayfish dart back and forth in the shaded deep
pools, chasing aquatic insects and, sometimes, one another. Turtles are
sunbathing on a log that holds all six of them. Upriver on Big Rock I
see Scarlett and her puppy Huckleberry sun bathing and fishing at the
same time.
My feet sink into the soft, squishy clay beside the water's
edge. Water spiders scurry farther out into the current as my form hangs
above them. I step into the river, and the rough river rocks shift under
my feet. August reigns now Northern Ohio
and slippery green moss covers the river bottom. As I wade into the river,
the cool water laps at my calves, caressing my hot skin with a soft
touch. I walk through the shallows, and then I cut across through a
deeper-cut channel that hugs a sandbar. Across from the sandbar
we planted some raspberry and blackberry bushes in the past several
years. This year we also planted some red currant bushes from my
father's garden which I am happy about. Since my father's passing last
year, the red currant bushes bring me many nice memories of picking red
currants with my father.
However, at this moment in time, the blackberry bushes are now ripe and ready for picking.
However, at this moment in time, the blackberry bushes are now ripe and ready for picking.
As my heels hit the sand, my hands release their grip on my
bunched skirt that I had pulled up to keep it from getting wet. Its cotton
folds fall around my dripping legs, quickly wiping away moisture. Because of the deer, none of the lower branches have any ripe
berries. I will have to stretch to my utmost height to snatch sweet
blackberries from the topmost branches.For
the next while, I will gather the black gems of the Rocky River.
While I am engaged thus, needle-like thorns snare my clothes
and scratch my skin. At times, the brambles entangle me and I feel like the
bushes are eating me alive. Once my fingers close on a juicy black
morsel, I pop it into my mouth. As I bite down, a sweet-tart concentrated
berry flavor regales my taste buds. Such bliss! At first, I hurry,
quickly chewing a mouthful and swallowing while reaching for another. But
the magic of soft breezes and gurgling river water calms my frantic
haste. I start savoring each bitty blackberry.
"Take your time. These
berries are a rare
gift," the River's muse seems to be saying. "Yes," the sirens in the
woods that are towering above me add, "summer only lasts so long."
At last, my hands and lips are stained with the purple juice
of many berries. For now, I will have to stop. The cool river water
takes off most of the sticky purple residue from my hands. I leave the
purple stain on my lips. It nature's lip color, and I am proud to wear it.
