A dropped ball, a clean riverbank, a quiet car ride, and a dog grinning her way through the heat. A Warm Wednesday at the River I walked down to the river this afternoon, ball in hand — or so I thought. Turns out I dropped it back at the park entrance while picking up dog dirt. That’s the kind of distraction the river has on me; once I’m headed toward the water, everything else fades out. Someone had left a pair of socks on the riverbank, so I tossed them in the garbage on my way through, trying to keep the place a little cleaner. Dad joined me for about an hour, and we tossed the ball once I finally realized I’d lost it and grabbed another. Dixie got her turns too, splashing in and out of the water, absolutely thrilled. She had that big dog‑grin going, brown eyes shining straight into the camera like she knew she was having a perfect day. It hit 28°C today, warm enough that the coulee felt like the right place to be. Dixie was a surprisingly good car rider — not a single bark on...
A slow walk alone, noticing birds, turtles, willows, and the quiet thoughts that rise when the leash stays at home. A Walk Down to the Crow Without Dixie Today I walked down to the Crow by myself — no dog tugging the leash, no black shadow pacing beside me. Just me, my thoughts, and the space around me. It felt different, quieter in a way I don’t always let myself sit with. The river was doing its usual thing, sending ripples across the surface like it was breathing slow. I watched a poplar on the far bank sway like it was waving at me. Blackbirds in every shade and pattern flicked through the reeds, robins hopped around like they owned the place, and yes — even turtles showed up for the moment. I sat on the land ties that hold the path together, letting the stillness settle in. Ants crawled over the wood, busy with whatever ants are always busy with. A robin flew overhead and dropped a little mid‑air gift — nature’s sense of humor, I guess. From where I sat, I could see the willo...