that it says something about his deep connection to the outside world,
it actually tells you more about the tides of our own lives. You see,
our little corner of the world is connected to the city of Stirling by
a small pedestrian bridge. Yes, of course there is a road that
takes traffic in and out, but it heads in the opposite direction of
city life, down a long, dark country road.
over the bridge many times in a week, every week, rain, shine, sleet or
snow. We watch the river change with the seasons and the tide
(something rivers in Iowa paid no notice of). Its a focal point of
conversation with neighbours, "Isn't the river high/low/calm/rough
today?". Its a popular outing for the smallest family member, with
stones collected sometimes for days with the delicious intent of having
them meet their fate on the muddy bottom of the Forth.
And then their are the boats. The Forth in Stirling no longer
sees the traffic it used to when it had its own harbour, but
occasionally the odd race or boater will traverse their way through the
snake like curves and pass under our bridge. Saturday saw one such
race and now we can't cross the bridge without checking to make sure
there airen't any boats sliding underneath the bridge.