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The Brimberry is quiet these days.  The water is still.  If it doesn’t rain much in the next few weeks, it will dry completely and we will be able to walk among the cypress trees.  There is a small strip of land that Papaw and a neighbor built up many moons ago, that cuts through the water.  It serves as a property line, and was intended to keep the once-upon-a-time cows from wandering all over.  Now, it is the perfect peninsula for adventurers, young and old alike, to spy the wonders of the Brimberry, before the waters have receded completely.  We carefully wind our way through vivid green iris blades and gnarled cypress knots and ancient barbed-wire, to stand in awe in this alien landscape.

I watch my boys, doing what boys do- plunking sticks into the solemn waters, spying on the beaver dam…  I see my daughter, on the look-out for some little creature in need of rescuing.  And my husband, whose eyes are filled with a brightness that only comes when he is here, in the Brimberry.

And my heart is filled with such sweetness, completeness. 

I am home.

 

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