I’m visiting Upstate New York and Western Massachusetts, right now. This morning, I took Mom to the “hairdresser”. Since I had 3/4 of an hour to “kill”, before returning to pick her up, I headed to the river, just a few blocks away.
I’ve missed having the river and trains passing through town. And, I hadn’t visited the river in some time, let alone in the cold of January. While most people would look at an unnecessary trip to the frozen banks of the river on a January morning, where the temperature is in the mid teens and a light wind passing through, I find adventure in the doing.
In fact, the Mohawk River appears so peaceful, with the slushy ice floating by, with the lightest of a mushy, slushy, smooshy sound, as it gently brushes into the now frozen ice and snow laden banks, giving the effect of all of the world passing in front of me, heading east. Despite the minor distraction of the temperature and bite of the light wind, I witnessed the passing of a large winged Blue Heron. A short distance up river, a pair of ducks floated in between the passing ice, diving underwater, returning to the surface in seemingly the same place as they had been, in an almost synchronized effort.
The Mohawk River appears so peaceful and welcoming me to its shores, on this winter’s day, where the sun and clouds alternate their visit and the drift of the wind requires a hood and even turning my head away for just long enough to allow the sting in my right cheek to subside.
I wouldn’t trade this moment.
Peter J Quandt