I am 65 years old today and I am sitting where I wanted to be in my dreams. Although my dreams have a more secluded spot next to the river, a little closer to our room, this will do.
I am probably 50 yards from the staircase and path leading down to the river. It is a wide open area with many boulders, not a beach, and no way to access a stroll next to the river. That is, not an easy stroll as there is no visible path from where I sit, only large rocks and boulders. These rocks, like the one I am sitting on, are shiny and slippery. I have to anchor myself with the tread of my shoe. I wonder at what point in time they were covered by water.
There isn’t much vegetation. What I see is mostly dead. Some of the brush sticking up looks like petrified sea weed. There is also a bluish bush that reminds me of sage.
I hear birds but they are off in the distance. I just saw a few fly into a nearby pine tree, chirping their staccato melody. I wish I could hear them better over the rush of the river. But oh! That river, the sight and the sound! This is the moment I have been waiting for with every fiber of my being.
Adjusting my perch on the slippery rock, I notice the sun is just on top of the mountain peak, sitting there staring at me–wondering what I am thinking, wondering what is to become of me in my old age. Not that I am old yet.
To my right, up the river, and in the distance is a mountain peak covered with snow. I know Johnsondale is up the road a speck, but I cannot believe what the blind lady told me: that McNally’s is up that road 13 miles. I thought it was in Kernville and we are 3 miles out of Kernville.
The air is fresh. It is cool December air. It is breathable. This is a picture perfect place and I feel like singing, “I Know A Place.”