“River’s going up,” I remark to no one in particular. Magoo sleeps soundly, nestled on the soft blanket I’ve placed for him on a picnic table bench. He doesn’t raise his head. Abbey rests on the green grass, the morning sun shining on her shiny black coat, eyes shut, perfectly content. A soft breeze touches my face.
Dick has gone to the R.V. park manager’s office, and I’m lounging in my outdoor chair, just watching the morning unfold along the banks of the White River as the water rises higher by the minute. The gates at Bull Shoals Lake have been opened, releasing more water and forcing the two large sand bars in the river’s middle to slowly submerge while the channel between them widens.
A gray heron has been fishing on the edge of the farthest sand bar, his silhouette dark against the greenery of the shore behind him. The bright red of a male cardinal flashes through the budding tree leaves above, his raucous calls reverberate as he searches for his ladylove.
I also catch a glimpse of blue as a blue jay flies to the dead branch of an overhead tree, beak full of nest building materials. Earlier this morning, Dick pointed out what looks like the beginnings of a nest.
An occasional fly fisherman wades past, and I know that with the rising river water will come flat-bottomed riverboats carrying avid fishermen and women. They hope to catch rainbows and brown trout. I’ve heard the brown trout are quite sizable.
It’s April in the Ozarks, and I’m inhaling it with every fiber of my being: the greening trees and grass, the warm air, the multitude of wildflowers that adorn the banks of the nearby walking path.
Seems like many years have passed since I started RVing, and I still love it. Life is casual. The atmosphere is friendly, but people tend to their own business. RV people have a high tolerance for pets, mostly dogs with a sprinkle of cats, and it’s rare to see a rig without a pet, so if Mr. Magoo barks at a strange noise in the night, I don’t have to worry. All in all, a relaxed atmosphere prevails.
I have no schedule for today. No appointments. No stress. Later, I’ll pull on my walking shoes, amble to a nearby hiking trail where wildflowers abound. Meanwhile, I watch the river and wonder if my house sitter back home is watching snow melt.
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