Creeks like to talk about themselves, the chatter being light and happy when the water flows and such are running normally.
And yet when storms set the mood on edge and the banks are being buffeted by an outpouring of muddy water, well, the language is much different. One that isn’t fit to be heard in mixed company, let alone in the presence of children. On Monday, my little stream made its greeting a cherry one, saying it had missed me. Of course, I missed my little fishing buddy, too.
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