Late morning downriver.
Late afternoon upriver.
The near disappearance of the river under the ice underlines the nature of the Ottauquechee as a presence not easily defined.
Yesterday I opened a book I received for Christmas, The Best Spiritual Writing 2002. Leafing through, I found these words from Barry Lopez, written about his long observation of western Oregon's McKenzie River.
"Almost every day I go down to the river with no intention but to sit and watch. I have been watching the river for thirty years, just the three or four hundred yards of it I can see from the forested bank, a run of clear, quick water about 350 feet wide. If I have learned anything here, it's that each time I come down, something I don't know yet will reveal itself."
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