Reprising a Mother's Day trip from a year or so ago, I went canoeing with braider  today down the Big Darby Creek River.  It was the perfect day for it; seventy degrees with blue skies and puffy white clouds, a soft breeze.

We rowed upstream for the first fifteen minutes or so, and saw a blue heron and a white faced barn owl.
Turning downstream, we paddled close to shore until I caught a glimpse of my house and the kids' fort in our backyard.  I cheerfully yelled hello uphill as we floated past.

We saw many painted box turtles resting on rocks, banks and logs.  We counted ninety turtles over the course of our course, in fives and sevens, lined up in rows of large, medium and small.

The sun sparkled beautifully on the water, birds sang for us, and flowers bloomed in the trees and on the banks.  We saw a mallard duck pair.  It was charming to see the male always keep himself between us and his mate.  We scared a gaggle of geese into flying further downstream, but they ignored us with great majesty when we caught up with them again.

braider  sang, which was beautiful, and I kept interrupting her to point out something stream of consciousness about our surroundings.  (She was awfully gracious about it, and cheerfully appreciated whatever "Oh!  Look!" I commented upon.)

It was a smooth, quiet river, so we would paddle across to the "rough" bits to challenge my canoeing skills.  It was so fun!  It's hard to think that this is the same river that threatened to drown my house with flooding not too long ago.

I spent the entire trip being overwhelmingly happy.

Not much change in height all day, but it's slowed down. News says it's as high as they're expecting it to get - pending the rain on Friday and Saturday.

Neighbors were talking about hearing my coyote last night, and maybe shooting it if it came into town. I'm really glad he's on the other side of the fence. I hope he'll be okay, brave guy.

11 P.M. It started snowing this evening - good news for not adding more liquid into the swollen river. I went out to the fence line after the news, slipping and sliding on the wet grass covered by icy snow. Lost my Birkenstocks going down. Wet muddy bottom, wet squishy socks, wet muddy knees.

I shone my high powered flashlight over the fence, and nearly wet my pants in a different way as I lit up my buddy the coyote, back again. I guess he was cut off downstream. He whined at me, and stood his ground. The river gurgled and evilly chuckled behind him in the dark, past where my light could shine.

I wasn't scared of the coyote by my fence, but the river sounds scary when you can't see it.

The news said my creek was at 11 feet at 5 this afternoon, and was expected to peak by Thursday afternoon at 12.8 feet. That should be right at my fence line? Or below?

And two of my kiddos have become ill, with fevers and coughing that triggers gag vomiting.

I'm spending the night at home. And, since the county sheriff lives in my little hamlet, I'm certain that we'd get ample warning to get out if we need to.

All the same, I'm also certain that I'll be checking the river tonight.

The water at 3 P.M. is about a person length (height, too) from my back fence. The speed of how fast the water was advancing has slowed considerably. My husband says there are areas in the park where it can spread out a little before it rises again. I'm still checking every 15-20 minutes.

As I stood at this boundary between me and the park, with the river bubbling just beyond, I saw a bunny rabbit lop-pity lop-pity loping amidst the puddles, passing me. Next came a round, wet raccoon, waddling, waddling steadily past me. Next came a dun colored coyote padding past, tongue lolling.

All were within but a few feet of one another, but they paid no attention to either me, or one another as they steadily traveled downstream, with little space between the fence and the muddy rising water. The coyote actually passed close by the bunny rabbit without breaking stride, and the bunny didn't try to bolt.

Amazing.