Yellow River, after the storm

 After Hurricane Helene, the underbrush in the Yellow River bottom appeared to have a new paint job.

The foliage above the high-water mark was still bright green. Beneath it, the shrubs and bushes were light brown, almost yellow. The river runs through lenses of yellow sand and banks of red clay. It looked like a thick coat of paint, 8 feet high in places.

The floods had receded by the time we investigated, but the river was still high and noisy. The Rockbridge was gone — replaced temporarily by a rock pier. The current was above the boulders that make up the east side of the bridge. The taller boulders on the west side of the river looked like a pier.

I’d never noticed the difference in the height of the rock formation. It’s always astonishing to me how little I see. (At some point, you’d think I’d at least get over the astonishment at my own limitations as an observer.)

The flood hadn’t touched the tall stand of ironweeds, beggar ticks and dogfennel. But as we approached, I saw that the feathery branches of dogfennel were drooping. I thought the storm had lashed them, but they were so full of seeds they were bending over, stooped by the weight.