Rivers are born from small trickles and splashings of seeps and springs forced upward from impermeable folds in the earth holding water under pressure to burst or bubble forth into freshening creeks that I can easily step across in my older age.
Nichols Creek.
These springs rise up from artesian aquifers nestled in the Wisconsin glacial valleys between the tumbled moraines and winding eskers, trickling around drumlins and moulin kames or over eratic boulders stolen from Canada to flow into and fill kettle lakes that overflow to become rivers that eventually find Lake Michigan.
There has always been a well worn and dented tin cup hanging nearby on an overhanging branch. I'm not afraid to pause a moment to rest, enjoy and quench my thirst with its sweet icy cold splash on my tongue.
I've always called this crystal clear spring pool at the bottom of a steep moraine Dancing Sands. I'm a hopeless romantic.
Ice Age National Scientific Reserve
Those dancing sands bubble up, tumble and pile onto smooth rocks before slipping back to be thrown once again into the upward roil.
Over and over and over, tumbling forever
they dance in the cold boil of the spring until worn into miniscule dust particles and disappear.
Five Green Frogs sit on a pew of mossy wet log listening to the Western Chorus Frogs sing their perfect song like a fingernail strummed over the fine teeth of a plastic comb and the high peep of Spring Peepers.
The bright green mass of watercress is refreshed and growing new leaves after resting through the winter. The delicate leaves make a delicious peppery salad when drizzled with a favorite dressing.
Kettle Moraine State Forest-Northern Unit
A possum rests forever on a carpet of discarded pine cones.
The purple and green hooded spathe and spadix of skunk cabbage generates its own heat.
This dazzle of marsh marigolds are the first bright blooms in the wetland.
A blob of jelly fungi aptly called Witches' Butter dangles delicately in the breeze.
An ancient 10-inch pipe driven into the valley floor by an early homesteader still gushes nourishing a heavy shroud of thick moss before splashing into the creek.
An abandoned perfection woven of grasses and pine needles catches my eye.
The tight resinous cones of the Jack Pine need fire to open and seed the forest floor.
Young fuzzy rosettes of Common Mullein gather jeweled drops from the morning fog.
Another early homestead built a small concrete box around this spring hole that continues to flow through all seasons.
A three and a half foot Northern Water Snake is caught basking at his small beach and quickly slips back into his pond to disappear.
Home from our hike we meet six neighborhood Sandhill Cranes gleaning corn from the field next door.
Beauty is timeless.