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	# 2023-02-01 - August Recollection by Ben Collver

	Secret Hideaway by Vanconickx

	It was during the hot summer days of August. I had retreated to a
	creek bed. It was a separate world, separated by a dense leaf
	foliage and a canopy of deciduous trees. The creek made soothing,
	gurgling noises where the shallow water ran over rocks. Sometimes I
	would take a nap in one of the deeper pools.

	One of these pools had a sort of waterfall falling into it. The fall
	was wide and short enough to climb up. I would jump off of the top
	of the fall into the pool. It wasn't deep enough to dive into, but
	with its sandy bottom, it was quite safe to jump in. I wouldn't
	always come alone to this place.

	Another thing I remember is the berries. The ones by the creek
	always seemed fatter and juicier. There was also a cherry tree, but
	it bore tart pie cherries that were long-gone by August. There was a
	cool boulder not far from this tree. i remember it with and without
	moss. Anyway, there was a place on this boulder perfectly shaped to
	fit the human back. This was another of my favorite sleeping places.

	I remember how in some places, the sun would filter through the trees
	and send rays in to the water. I remember the buzz of the cicadas
	outside in the heat. The place seemed sensual, almost magical to my
	young eyes. I didn't think this, it was just the way things were.
	Like the fact that the water-skippers could walk on water and I
	couldn't.

	Lastly, I remember working my way back up the bank, not noticing
	where my world ended and the summer returned. The heat was what I
	would usually call sweltering. But having come out of my shady, cool
	comfort, the heat was pleasant. I enjoyed my walk as I soaked in the
	sun's energy. It almost never failed that when I was wet, an arid
	breeze would blow against me, drying me.

	I would walk barefoot through parched grass, and hop from one
	river-worn boulder to another. We were all selfish back then, in our
	naturally childish way. But we were not demanding. Our spheres of
	self-centeredness were still too small to collide. We were content.
	I am content again as another August draws nearer. This world seems
	wonderful, but the Augusts will become like days [passing by all too
	quickly]. I look forward to the next world where time has no
	meaning. When the true meaning of splendor is revealed. Until then
	I am content with just an August recollection.

	* * *

	Apparently i wrote this in 1993 and then forgot about it. Later my
	sister gave it back to me. It is nice to think about all the
	pleasant times i must have forgotten, and how interesting it would be
	to have a time machine to explore, even if only the period of my own
	life.

	If i recall correctly, this writing is not actually about a single
	place, but an amalgam of multiple places along the Rogue River. I
	have had to come to terms with the fact that some of these places no
	longer have public access.

	The other day i visited a section of this creek and even in the
	middle of winter it is as beautiful and peaceful as ever. I walked
	down a steep bank. An enormous maple root formed a perfect bench to
	sit on. I sat there for between a quarter to a third of an hour,
	just soaking it all in: the sounds, the sunshine on the water, the
	signs of past activities both wild and human.

	What's bizarre to me is that these beautiful areas can remain hidden
	and for the most part unappreciated, sometimes right in the middle of
	town. This flowing water is more real than the social realities we
	condition and construct, and it has been faithfully flowing for
	millennia. These secret hideaways of the Earth and the secret
	recesses of my heart are good places to live and die in.

	tags: bencollver,outdoor

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	bencollver
	outdoor