Joe's Run

One of my goals this spring is to walk more. I've started and stopped numerous times over the years, and now, I start again. I've been trying this March but the weather hasn't been cooperative. Call me a wimp but I won't go out in cold or rain. Asthma tends to curtail that activity. But last night was perfect for walking so I headed out. I hoped some neighbors might join me but I was alone, and this time decided to veer from the usual track and meander along the stream we call Joe's Run instead of sticking to the road.

I started at the bridge, the place where the two forks of Joe's Run come together. The road used to be called Left Fork of Joe's Run and Right fork of Joe's Run, but the 911 renaming project decided that one would now be Joe's Run, the other Farmers Drive. Needless to say, the change is not popular on the holler and we still refer to the two forks by their former names.

There are some places I'd seen from the road that interested me. Nothing spectacular, you understand; this is just a little creek like thousands of others but even so nature has a way of making oddities that attract the eye in even the tiniest of places.

 Joe's Run fills a small watershed lake that helps protect the town of Ripley from flooding. It has also added a variety of waterfowl to our lives. Last night the Canada geese and a variety of ducks were honking and calling as I made my way up the creek.

A mullein still looks a bit beaten by winter, but hopeful new leaves are beginning to emerge at its center.

Twisty staghorn sumac makes a statement amidst a tangle of briers and brush.

I do not know what kind of tree this is but its bark was striking. I'll have to wait for leaves to identify it.

A grove of sycamores was one of the places I wanted to investigate,

 as were these two willows, bent far over the creek. I have wanted to walk over here in winter to photograph them in the snow because their silhouette is so interesting when edged in white and gray of winter.

Below the willows, a tiny dam made pleasing water music.

The sun was beginning to set as I made my way back along the creekbank.

And here was the sycamore grove, with a spot of something green...and is that yellow?

The sycamores towered over me. Such shaggy bark as they peel away winter for summer's mottled white!

White, and also green, it seems, are both being revealed. And that yellow speck?

Ah, wild daffodils! They spread so easily here, and I suppose this one washed downstream in one of storms.

Finally I was back to the road, and there waited my trusty van.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.