I can still feel the buoyancy of our little boat as we pushed off from the bank of the river into the fresh, honey-sweet, morning air caressing my face. At ease, I sat in the bow of the boat watching and feeling the breath of the broad, smooth-flowing, loving Ochlocknee River gliding over me and my senses, muting the sharp sound of the powerful little engine at the stern…….. We were heading upstream to check the bobbing fishhooks for our overnight catch and see if there were signs of Turkey or Deer on the low-land game trails.
The days were full, and the wilderness was mostly silent, especially when I was alone trekking deep into the most isolated areas, it could also be very mysterious. I loved it, but I also loved the memory of the day drifting into twilight, the huge trees and the pure black night protectively closing their arms safely over us as we stretched out by the fire, listening to the river and night sounds, savoring our supper of fresh fish and cheese grits.
Today as I muse through these memories of being on the river or in the surrounding wilderness, I am amaze at the peace, the beauty, and the healing I’m still receiving from that perfect, loving oasis of sanity; it was like a spiritual balm, slowly mending my damaged psyche; the healing still continues to this day.