Yesterday, returning from our trip to Lanesboro to celebrate Tim’s birthday, it was beautifully sunny and warm. Since we’d gotten an early start, we decided to detour to take look at Eagle Bluff Residential Environmental Learning Center (an organization we’d visited long ago when I was helping to raise money for them.) As navigator, I realized that we were on the very county highway which could take us back to Bucksnort! We’d visited last year–just a dot on the map but a trout stream of exceptional clarity and sparkle. Here’s a link to a few lines about it from 2019.
What is the allure of this tiny place? Maybe it’s just the name? Or knowing that I will be rereading Hemmingway’s collection of fiction, The Nick Adams Stories, later this fall with my Book Group? (Remember the short story, “Big Two-Hearted River,” from high school English class, perhaps?) In any case, something drew us to return to this swift-running trout stream yesterday. Tim commented that the air seemed more fresh and the colors more vivid there than in other places.
Or maybe it’s the image of the dam? The human-built addition that affects the rest natural world, creating more concentrated power for an instant, more leaps and agitations and aeration? I am wondering about the Brown Trout and their own leaping and falling, seeking and finding and resting as contemplate the human political cycles we’ve grafted onto the seasonal ones, the rise and fall of Fortune’s Wheel. Like Boethius, I keep seeking consolation in the midst of mental agitation, if not in pure philosophy than at least in poetry.
These photographs don’t do beautiful Bucksnort justice, but perhaps they offer a hint of the refreshment we found there at the conclusion of a welcome (mostly) screen-free weekend, free from most thoughts of volatile national roiling. We simply basked in the natural flow of Trout Run Creek, the green streaming of water weeds, the clouds reflecting in the double movement of sky and water.
Wishing you all moments of the deepest serenity in the fraught week ahead, knowing the ups and downs are all part of the flow. Remember to breathe!
LESLIE
What a nice post to read today. And what a pretty little river town Bucksnort, Iowa is! Just love the name. So glad the experience was great and it helped you and Tim to feel happy and well! Your report helped me too!
Happy Birthday Tim!
Thank you, Scott. I heartily second your exhortation to vote on behalf of us all, especially those whose rights are violated—our fellow humans and fellow species. Voting is lifting our voices in the collective song of a better world. We need that this year especially.
I believe that Trout Run Creek, that runs through Bucksnort, is a tributary of the Root River.
Thanks, Leslie. I’ve canoed the upper areas of the Root’s North Fork but don’t think I’ve been to that dam…I would remember the portage. Is that the Root, or a tributary creek? Looks and sounds like a beautiful spot. “Remember to breathe.” At the risk of stating the obvious, I’ll add: at the same time, remember all those whose easy breathing is systemically suppressed, and vote!