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"Downriver there is a poetry to the Red Cedar. Tree-shaded banks, ivy-covered walls, the smell of lilac, the twilight shadows, and the remembrance of love long lost. But here, along the creeks and streams that feed the main river, we have the last traces of still untamed country." There’s a piece of ground several miles south of Howell that marks the boundary for three watersheds. Rain and melted snow running one way end up going south into the Huron River and eventually Lake Erie. The run-off flowing in a northeasterly direction finds its way to the Shiawassee River and Saginaw Bay, while water going westward heads towards the Red Cedar River and then onward to the Grand River and Lake Michigan. |
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Written by Steve Horton
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Wednesday, 12 March 2008 18:48 |
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In the sun that is young only once Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means (Dylan Thomas) -- Near Cadillac the hills begin. Long-sloped and tree-covered. The highway curves and twists through them. On either side there are acres of pine forest and intermingled among the pine are thin white lines of birch. Driving through it, you may feel finally that your luck has changed. -- Then there were the fishermen. Early each morning they’d steer their small boats slowly across the waters of the Bay. Their lines trailed off behind, weighed down with heavy sinkers. You could watch them from the restaurant. Always after the waitress brought the coffee and as you leT it cool. It was quiet then. |
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