The ditch, on New Year’s Day, was not dry at all. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and snow along the stream banks melted to mud, caking to the bottom of our shoes. As we walked, we grew taller. Brian and I kicked the mud off; the dogs brought it home between their toes.
A stream runs down the center of the property, trickling through a dense thicket of coyote willow. This unnamed stream drains down from the southeastern side of Peavine Peak. I’m not sure whether it flows year-round, but the drainage basin must be large enough to give it some flood potential because someone, at some point, built a large dam at the bottom of the “ditch” (which is what I am calling the whole property – land, water and all).
Likeable thing #2: This little stream must, on occasion, rage.