Friday, November 25, 2016

Noticeable November: River Rain

Okay, I forgot to write something specific for my blog this week. This was a class assignment that fit the Noticeable November theme.

River Rain
Jennifer E. Miller

The river calls to many for fishing, but sometimes I think I’m here for the rain. Clouds hang low, bringing the weather. Birds glide inches over the river’s winding glassy surface in search of food. If I'm lucky, the steelhead will get hungry for the bait. There’s more here than I came for; like watching the river dance.

Inside the cover of the boat, I open my Stanley thermos. The cap unscrews to serve as the cup. I twist the valve slightly to open the pouring mechanism. The suction releases, telling me it’s ready. As I pour my coffee, the hot beverage meets the cool air and stream crawls out my cup in wispy vapors. I wrap my hands around it and soak up the warmth, enjoying it while I wait for the coffee to cool off before taking that first sip.

Pitter-patter of rain starts. Soon drops dribble down the side curtains and catches my attention. Looking out the side, I notice the river has become misty with haze of precipitation. There is not embankment on this section of the river. The rolling hills fold into the landscape. They make long earthy striations. Like fingers of a giant they jut down directly to the water, as though combing in the current.

As the coffee bean aroma fills my nostrils, I gaze out onto the water. I always liked the rain while fishing. The fresh clean air revitalizes the otherwise stale stank of the dark murkiness. Driftwood, white cap foam, and occasionally trash lap against the shoreline. Trapped, it’s all let to wither and rot with the sands of time.

The newfound freshness calls to me, reminding me I have cooped myself up indoors far too long. I needed a trek to the outdoors. But now I’m inside a man-made vessel surrounded by more artificial objects. I suddenly become aware of the gassy smell of the propane heater inside the boat. It’s not harming me; I have plenty of ventilation. But I long to breathe the natural surroundings Earth provides. Trapped inside with propane, vinyl, and aluminum, I need escape.

Stepping out of the boat's cover, I allow the fresh rain to fall upon me. It’s not raining hard, but many small drops fall quickly. They tap the water-plunk plunk-each making ripples. The ripples are plentiful and merge into one another. At the centers the raindrops which tap the surface bounce upward in an attempt to escape and return to the sky. They don’t get far. Gravity pulls them back to the river.

Copyrighted 2016 by Jennifer E. Miller

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