Starting the new year on a wet note

Last night Ray said, "step outside here, with me and look at the creek." We took a flashlight and walked across the soggy lawn to the pathway down to the little bridge. After a day of record rainfall and melting snow, it was the highest we'd seen it, flowing over the top of the bridge and around the trees that are normally part of the bank.

By this morning it had subsided considerably, but the pattern of the snow shows where the water had been.

One of the things that attracted us to this house and property was the little creek running through and I went back to look at all the photos I have taken of the creek in a little more than a year. It is called Johnson Creek and eventually drains into the Tualatin River. It seems to originate not far from us, on Cooper Mountain. There is a nice trail that follows it below our property for awhile.

Last December it was nearly as high as it is today, but not moving as rapidly.

By May it was moving lazily through, with water skippers and frogs I could hear, but never did see.

June found it barely moving, clean and clear, reflecting the blue sky above.

In October the creek was dry.

By November we'd had a little rain that brought the creek back to life.

The snows of last month nearly obscured it altogether before they were done.

I am so drawn to the creek and love, especially, the view from the edge of our driveway, looking down toward the little bridge. The bridge reminds me of a much smaller version of the famous green bridge in Monet's garden. Monet painted that bridge so many times, in so many seasons. There is something so peaceful about watching water flow under a little bridge.