Pebbles in shoes
Walking through mud
Slipping on rocks
Cool water.

This past Thursday I went to my sister’s and did some fishing in the Conodoguinet Creek. The Conodoguinet is a long creek starting in the mountains of south Pennsylvania and ending when it merges with the Susquehanna River near Harrisburg.

“My” special section of the creek was no more than a mile or so long with the center point being the dock that my dad and I built, running upstream to the “dams” and down stream to the bend in creek. During the summer I was usually at the creek, either in my row boat or wading. I didn’t do much swimming in creek, my pursuit was fish. I caught a lot of Rock Bass, Sunfish and Bluegills and one glorious day a 17 inch small mouth bass.

On Thursday, in my mind’s eye, I returned to those days. At sixty-five, negotiating the slippery stones on the bottom of the creek was more difficult than as a teenager! But I did and the experience was bittersweet. It was bitter because the creek-scape has changed. The dams are gone. Much of what was flowing water has been encased in mud washed downstream and the ensuing vegetation.

The sweetness overshadows the bitter. The clear flowing water. The shadows of darting fish. The joy of catching one, even if it was small. And the euphoria of walking the creek bed. The peace of being alone in nature. I found myself praising God that I could, once again, have that joy and peace. I think the creek will forever be my psychological and emotional home.