“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.”
Two lovely mares known as Olive and Annie, take a drink from this serene creek in southeastern Minnesota, called Wells Creek. A creek that never sleeps, never freezes, and wreaks havoc on the surrounding landscape when angered during torrential rains or heavy spring melts.
Wells Creek is a place of solace, beautiful artistic backdrops, sustenance for many including us humans as she teems with trout for an evening meal, river otters and beaver alike use her collection of downed trees, deer play in her shallow shoals, and a lone ‘turd bird’ – aka Great Blue Heron use her gentle curves as a flyway.