How High’s The Water Mama?

I was singing Johnny Cash’s tune yesterday. You know the one where he asks, “How high’s the water mama?

It was high then, but even higher this morning at 6:30. It stopped me in my tracks as overnight it had covered up a stretch of the bike path and spilled over into a little bog.

But gosh, it’s pretty down there.

The Red Lake River around my neighborhood is surprising me these days, not only because it’s so high from all the rain, but because it is on the move. This is not your run-of-the-mill lazy river. Not this week. 

I paused to take it all in wishing I could have put a speedometer on a log that zipped by. It was cruising.

There were hundreds of logs afloat. One was gigantic and had something that resembled a tail fin. It looked for all the world like the photos we saw of US Airways Flight 1549 that was successfully ditched in the Hudson adjacent to midtown Manhattan on Jan. 15, 2009.

Last evening it was a virtual party down by the riverside. We watched a muskrat swimming along until he nimbly exited the water and jumped on a log that was half submerged and half on the bank. He scampered off probably to dance class where they were no doubt teaching “The Muskrat Ramble.”

Thankfully, he didn’t come our way. I must confess – he was not the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Several people had gathered at this bayou to watch the river and the schools of fish that were splashing around like kids in a swimming pool. They were huge critters, now sadly landlocked, with some pretty colorful markings. We couldn’t determine if they were catfish, carp, or some other species.

I’m wondering – who needs television when you have a river nearby that comes complete with creatures?

So, “how high’s the water mama?” I’d better go check. It might be four feet high and rising.

Until soon