There’s something about water and rocks. I know from my course in limnology long ago that a stream is an alien world people populated by scary looking creatures. Really scary like hellgrammites, savage Dragonfly pupae or the killer crawfish. Luckily they are all only a few inches long and they are all eaten themselves by the alert trout that marvelously brave and proud looking tasty fish which evolved in the moraines of the glaciers. Or the Bass, Pickerel and Crappie.
Which in turn I hunt and eat.
So whenever I look at a stream I ponder the romance of that swirling world dropping its way to the sea through worn the down mountains and it’s rocks and leafy dark forests, sunny vales and course, the still bog.