WORDS BY:
Melissa K. Norris
Homestead Living RIPPLES
MY FATHER IS AN EXPERT ROCK SKIPPER. His eyes are trained to scan the riverbank for the perfect skipping rock—flat, smooth-edged, and preferably round or oval. With a flick of his wrist, that rock will skip across the surface of the water clear to the other shore. That’s saying something. Our rivers on the west side of the North Cascades in the Pacific Northwest are wide. As a young girl, he’d pick out a rock for me and walk me through the steps of drawing back my arm level with the river and letting it spin off my pointer finger. In my hands, the rocks never skipped like they did for him. Water is something we have an abundance of in the Pacific Northwest. It can be a blessing and a curse. Growing up on the banks of two rivers, the Skagit and Sauk, I learned at an early age that tranquil waters on the surface don’t reflect the true reality beneath the surface. Undercurrents are swift, and the Skagit River claims at least a few lives every year to those who don’t know her true nature. Both a dangerous undertow and her glacier-fed, bone-chilling depths, even on the hot days of early summer, can be deadly. And yet, one of my absolute favorite places to be is on her shores and in select swimming holes come the dog days of August. photos by R.K. Rivera
PLAIN VALUES JUNE 2023
33
