River – Page 7 – My Outdoor Living Room

I’ve noticed recently that many stories and articles that I read in the news affect me differently than they used to. I know exactly why. Becoming a dad and knowing that I’m not at the back of the generational queue any more has left me very thoughtful about my boy’s world. I’ve always cared about the future – more the planet than society as a whole – but by having a physical being that I helped to create coming after me in the line has had a significant effect. I’m now a comma, not a full stop.

I do think a lot. I don’t take things at face value, and a lot of the time I have an opinion. Recently I’ve been accused of seeing the negatives in everything and it’s been intimated to me that I’m somehow grumpy most of the time. I don’t choose to be that way, it’s the price I pay for keeping up with the news and not burying my head in the sand and last week I found myself upset by a story the other day about how a toddler had been killed through a neighbour’s substance-fuelled act of irresponsibility. The story told how when the verdict was being read out in court, the father listened while holding one of his late son’s toys. It upset me quite deeply. This reaction of mine took me completely by surprise. I assume I put myself into his shoes momentarily.

I don’t mind these strange intrusions into my psyche – it’s a part of me I’ve never really heard or seen before. It’s another interesting clash of my life having to stand firm against some things that I don’t fully understand and yet allow other things, that I also don’t understand, change me.

Change. That’s an interesting word. An interesting concept. I’ve read it in philosophy books and seen it on endless internet-based imagery – the only constant is change – and change leads me nicely into the next bit of this cyber-monologue.

A couple of years ago, I sat pretty much in one of my favourite rivers. Yes I have favourite rivers. If pushed, I will reveal a top five. I don’t have a favourite TV programme or cider, but I do have a favourite river. I sat in the flow and felt the water running through my legs in a way the sea doesn’t. In a way the sea can’t. The sea isn’t as constant as a river – it just comes and goes like a fickle friend. A river works tirelessly until the end of time. Thoughts ran through my favourite Dennis Wilson songs and one of my favourite quotes from Wind in the Willows until I settled on a thought path. Fortunately I had my notebook so began to scribble thoughts that flowed very much like the river itself. It struck me how so much in life, and my life in particular, is akin to a river and as such can be understood that way. Source to the open sea and therefore eternity (and the unknown) and all that. My thoughts that day would be an article all on their own, so it’s probably best left to a short summary.

There will be an article following this at some point about my recent run to find the source of a local river so I’ll spare the details. However (spoiler alert), when I found the source, I felt strange. Overwhelmed by the amazement that this puddle effectively was a trickle that would eventually lead to a bigger river, then an even bigger river and then the sea. A colleague would say, “Dude, it’s only a puddle”, but it had me feeling amazed and emotional. It’s a seemingly insignificant river but to the life it flows through it is life. I thought of my son and thought of him as the river (don’t get the straight jacket yet). This silent trickle entering the world eventually becomes a deafening roar somewhere. It changes lives and should never be underestimated yet it should be feared and admired, respected and loved, full of life and mystery, rushing headlong to its eventual destiny.

I will take him there one day and see if he appreciates it like I do. I imagine he’ll jump in it, splash around and say, “Come on dad, let’s go”. If that’s the case then so be it.

The last words of this post I’ll leave to a quote from a Worcestershire boy like myself:

Then, as it was, then again it will be. Though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea.

Thanks for reading.

After a week away from it, I decided I would make the most of the early autumnal sunshine and walk down to the rough ground. I find September to be a melancholy time of year. The end of summer, impending winter, watching things die back. I used to dread the end of August. But in recent years, I’ve grown to embrace it. Not like it, just embrace it.

One advantage to shorter days is you get more time to catch up on any reading. I especially like reading books about natural history and reading about spring and summer flora and fauna leaves you looking forward to the new year, giving hope. Autumn and winter also help me to get out more, as strange as it sounds. The cold doesn’t bother me, it’s more the wet and grey that gets me down, so if there’s a sunny day, it’s a great chance to drop everything that can wait, and plan a last minute trip to the hills, lanes, rivers and fields.

I get reflective at this time of year. I used to get depressed that another summer had drifted by without much thought and appreciation but nowadays I’m not like that so much, probably because I do more things that fill my imagination and needs, things I love doing, so when August comes and goes and that fluttery panic feeling creeps in, I smack it back with memories of the past four months. Walks, runs, camping trips, time at the allotment. Basically, less time on the sofa, in front of the TV.

The rough ground looked different yesterday. It was bathed in sunshine. The greenery slowly turning yellow and red. I heard more birds, a couple of crickets and began looking at what trees grow there. I noted a few maples more than anything.

I started to imagine if I could take ownership of the rough ground. What would I do with it? Would I close it off and leave it to mother nature or actively manage it? I thought first and foremost that I’d manage it. Remove non-native trees and plants, and encourage young saplings to grow up to regenerate the area. I pretty much worked out that I was more or less taking things away, not adding anything, which sounds unproductive but in the long term, it’s adding new trees and plants. It’s hard to work out what is ‘natural’ for an inner city scrub. Invasive species thrive. Being near a river, in flood, seeds will wash up. Damp ground fauna will survive over ill-planted species. I did definitely decide to keep it as open access, I mean, what’s the point in creating an urban wild patch that no one can appreciate also? Other that the obvious litter problem and the burned out car, and trolleys, there’s no sign of vandalism. If I showed care for it, would other people? Would I even mention it to friends? I haven’t even told my friends about this blog.