The "Muddy" Maple

Everyone calls the Maple river the “Muddy” Maple. The bottom is so muddy you sink when you walk on it. It feels like you have weights on your feet, it is like quicksand! The water looks a nasty brown because of the mud. If it did not have its muddy bottom the water would be as clear as a bottled water. The “Muddy” Maple smells fishy, just after a summer storm.

As I walk down the rocky weedy and muddy banks of the “Muddy” Maple, it is narrow then gets wide. You walk though so many tall weeds that is you lit a match you would start a wildfire. Mud clods to my shoes, when I walk near the edge of the river, I cannot see them. There are so many kinds of trees in the river, that you would think a tornado went thought and ripped the trees out of the ground. They have started to rot away from the high waters. The high waters come in late March and early April, from the snow melting and the spring showers. They make the river current run faster, like a drag racer racing for the prize.

I see a catfish jump out of the water. Making a splashing sound and ruffling the water as it lands. I keep walking I hear a goose in the distance, calling for its mate. I avoid the bur bushes with their brown pokies spikes that stick to your clothes and hair. The wind picks up blowing my hair around my face. Making the leaves fly overhead. I see a brown squirrel climbing up an old oak tree. Running for safety, the wind must have scared it.

I sit on the weedy, muddy bank. I peel my shoes and socks off and dangle my feet in the cool muddy water. Something tickles my toes. I look down it is minnow’s or baby fish. They are sucking on my toes. I just sit there listing to the sound of the wilderness. Birds chirping the sounds of the water, and the goose still calling.

I put my shoes and socks back on. There on the bank of the river is a muddy seashell, I leave over and pick it up. It smells rotten, but I can soak it when I get home. I hear the angry sounds of the bumble bees in the trees. Warning me to stay away from their nest.

A faint voice in the distance calling me. It is my dad, time to go home, back into the real world. I look around at the “Muddy” Maple, it is weedy, muddy banks. As I walk back to the truck, I still hear the goose calling. But what I see takes my breath away. The sunset casting over the water. It is reflection of purple, blue and pink. That is what I love most about the “Muddy” Maple the sun setting and making the whole river sparkle and glow!