Once I lived in a house by a river, in a deep narrow valley. The house was dark and damp, the river enticing. A broad lawn, anchored by an ancient white pine, sloped down to the water. Often, I sat by the water and wept. The sun sank early behind the mountains. The river sank into a running darkness. Every spring, I watched the ducks—mallards, mergansers—slide along the water with a wake of ducklings. I counted the little handfuls of fluff each day, delighted when they lined up along a fallen log, equally delighted when … Continue reading Living by Water by Martha Graham Wiseman →