In the 1950’s my father bought a car, a dark bottle green Chevrolet. On weekends we traveled from the city to the outskirts at a picnic point on the river. In those days, people drove their cars on the flat rocks right into the shallow water. Dad would wash the car in the river water. It was the thing to do then, a family outing, a picnic, washing the car and swimming too. Our meal: white bread sandwiches with pickles, wash it all down smoothly with cola.
Sixty some years later, I live minutes away from this point. The river is no longer fit for swimming. We do picnics but nobody would dream of washing their car in the river. Our meal is healthier, we have car wash bays, we are mindful of our river, we walk to the point.
summer breeze freshens
cattails standing guard on shore
shadow ducks from hawks