Usually the McCormick’s Creek flows gently into the White River, which itself is during dry summer months reduced to a muddy mess.
After winter rain storms, the White River floods into the plains, and pushes the McCormick’s creek back, forcing the foam caused by the recent storm to spiral in waiting — for what?
Time like the water has come to an unnatural standstill.
The trees that will teem with life in a few months look tired beyond hope.
But ripples in the water shake us back to life. We have paused only for a brief moment.