Beer on the porch

I can smell the river that I can see. The strong breeze, which says it will storm later, brings the scent of, were it even a touch stronger, dead fish. But as is, it is the khaki river that is just down the hill. Honeysuckle too.

It is not necessarily a pretty river. Sandy, muddy, or rocky edges,mostly cluttered with driftwood and the trash from man downstream. But the setting - the stuff around makes it perfect. Across from me a large diamond-shaped island, behind that a small mountain that looks tall and almost majestic from this vantage point. Immediately between me and the river is a steep embankment covered together with rocks, bushes, and trees whose roots are holding into the earth with all they have. In the summer the shades from the hillside, the river, and the mountain all blend to a mass of green. In the dead of winter, brown.

The wind is still strong, but the sun is still out and the distance is still clear. It is warm. Hot if you are in direct sunlight, but like a glove if you are in the shade. Close your eyes and love it.