It was dark. The sun was just starting to break through the still sky above as I wandered down to the global office.Looking below the Brisbane river looked as perfect as always, perhaps even more so as the mists played across the glassy image, dark still awaiting the new light of day.
It was time, that special time, to be alone with my river.
With digital camera in hand I walked down to the banks as a large crane, floating with the tide came into view. Disturbed by this most unwelcome visitor the crane flew into the mists and disappeared upstream.
The mist swirled around my feet as the low tide revealed the protruding rocky ridges of the river floor along which I walked. Nearby, the still waters flowed deep and little eddies drew all that floated above into their grasp.
Otherwise all was still. Not even the birds stirred. This was a special time.
I squatted transfixed by the beauty of the evolving day as the sun's rays broke the hold of the mists and revealed the true nature of the water's emotions below.
Emotions that held the soul of the valley together.
It was nearly time to return to the reality that was the global office, my river fantasy land was now revealing her life and living as the birds woke and shared in an experience lost to man in the walls that we call home and civilisation.
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The Brisbane River in flood
A canoe trip up the Brisbane River - December 1997