Today’s things are: canyon, river, hot
It was one of those days where things could be considered too hot to handle. It was like that during the summer, every day was a hot one, every night stayed warm and fleetingly in the mornings a cool breeze might be found boldly trying to go where no breeze had gone before.
Mum decided to get us out of the house during the school holiday and packed the car for a trip into the canyon to a picnic spot she remembered beside the river.
She had long regaled us with river stories, the fast flowing roaring stream where you had to look out for the undercurrents because they could suck you under.
It was a three-hour trip; with so many boring games of ‘I Spy’, I thought I’d throw up if she initiated one more. The air con in the car kept us relatively cool but outside it was easy to see the hot day searing the bush, the air vacant of birdlife as they sought shelter out of it.
So we arrived at the bottom of the canyon and mum enthusiastically jumped out and grabbed the picnic hamper from the boot and made her way towards the river.
We followed expecting to see the raging water mum had so often spoken about.
Instead, we saw a small creek like watercourse, barely trickling, struggling to make a gurgle let alone the expected roar.
Mum was so disappointed, but in her usual style spread out the picnic rug under a tree and started to organise lunch, ignoring the hot day and the hordes of flies who saw us a smorgasbord of their own.