What is it like for you?

Two months ago, I took part in a Creation-centered retreat at Mission Farm, Killington.  One of the leaders, Mark Kutolowski, led a group into the woods with the goal of encountering what we found there in a new way, by recognizing, for lack of a better expression, the individuality of each.  In other words, each tree, each rock, each insect, has a history, a trajectory to its existence, beginnings, middles and ends.  He called on us to ask of the beings surrounding us, whether animate or not, "What is it like for you?"

Crossing the bridge a few weeks ago, I stopped and posed that question to the Ottauquechee River. 

Today, the river is lower, the skies grayer, the leaves a muted gold.

A View from the Covered Bridge

The Middle Bridge pedestrian walkway flanks the east side of the span.  Along much of its length, lovers and others have carved initials.  About halfway across, near one of the uprights supporting the "cover" of the bridge, someone incised pairs of letters inside a shape like a heart.  I look for that marker, and there a I take the picture.  Today's came at 10 a.m.

I am by upbringing and general inclination a coastal person. 

Yet, for all my love of the sea, rivers draw me still.  Growing up in a Connecticut village, I crossed a bridge over the Quinnipiac River countless times.  At idle moments, on foot, I would stare at its steep, narrow banks.  Remembering the look about ten feet down, from over the rusted and bent ironwork barrier, all I recall are tires, thickets of branches and traces of oily water.  That such a mess had a name seemed odd at the time.  That the name was as exotic as "Quinnipiac," etched this neglected steam into my memory.

Now from a picture-perfect covered bridge, over a river with the resonant tag of "Ottauquechee," I have the gift of learning a real river.

September 28, 2014

The Middle Bridge in Woodstock, Vermont, draws countless camera lenses throughout the year.  Today, Sunday, September 28, tour bus riders came to record their moment at the town's central covered bridge, as they will through the rest of the foliage season, and beyond.  January brides and grooms freeze in front of the structure.  In the past days, I've seen iPads, iPhones and ordinary cameras pointed at the bridge.  It means New England, Vermont, Woodstock.

I walk my dog across the bridge most days.  Just a few hundred yards from my home, the Middle Bridge affords a crossing of the Ottauquechee River toward the sidewalks, park and River Street cemetery on the other side.

With this post, I begin a project.  To post every day, or almost, a photo not of the bridge, but of a view from the bridge, the sight of the river flowing toward the east.  The shot above came at about 4 p.m. today, a warm one for late September in Vermont.

In addition to the photo, taken from my iPhone, I will share brief reflections on the river, the sky, the rocks, the people, the birds, and the meaning of them all for me on a particular day.

I began taking the daily shots on September 13.  Here is that first one from two weeks and a day ago.

Already, the leaves have changed to be close to peak colors and the river is down.

A Greek philosopher Heraclitus said you cannot step into the same river twice.  This blog will show you cannot take a picture of the same river twice, either.