Small areas of foggy mist hover over the river in an ethereal shivering. The river flows quietly, with only the leaves floating by to indicate its motion. A small splash and resulting ripples comes from a fish, who is just hungry enough to venture topside for food on this chilly autumn morning.
The water begins to slowly brighten and take on color as the sun rises in the east. A Sandhill Crane lumbers through the fog. His big wings waving silently up and down, as his long neck straightens and curls in navigation. He pulls himself upward and flies over to an island before gliding to a stop.
The Mallard ducks swim out from the banks, and bathe themselves in quiet splashes. They duck their heads in the water and then under their wings, and then splash and shake themselves dry. They make a quacking noise only occasionally, as if they want to respect those who may remain sleeping.
A doe and her yearling appear out of nowhere, and step into the shallows to drink. They raise their heads and look in the direction of another splash, as the ducks continue their cleansing, then the pair go back to drinking.
The sky is lighting up with orange , blue and gray color, and wisps of fair weather clouds begin to appear on the horizon. The breeze picks up just a little, and leaves loosen their hold and kaleidoscope down, ever so gently, to the waiting water below.
The air is crisp and smells of water and woods. I fill my lungs, breathing deep and long through my nose. The earthy fragrances enliven me, awakening my senses... and preparing me for the day.
It is good to be here. It is a beautiful thing to behold, this Autumn awakening of the Sangamon Valley.
