July 19, 2008

dripping wet

July 18 031

"I swirled on my heel. Nothing but boulders around me. But the air was damp, somewhere - I said - and darted around the rocks, peering and looking and sniffing and going down into pockets and dales. No water. I was coming back, circling wide, when I almost fell in it. Two sentinel boulders, dripping wet, decorated with flowers, ferns, moss, weeds - everything that loved water - guarded a bathtub-sized spring.

"You pretty thing," I said, flopped on my stomach, and pushed my face into it to drink. I opened my eyes. The water was like glass, and in it were little insects with oars. They rowed away from me. Beetles skittered like bullets on the surface, or carried a silver bubble of air with them to the bottom. Ha, then I saw a crayfish." - My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George

July 18 003

I'm scanning my shelves looking for books I've loved that have luscious passages about water. What stories come to mind for you?

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