And then their are the boats. The Forth in Stirling no longer sees the traffic it used to when it had its own harbour, but occasionally the odd race or boater will traverse their way through the snake like curves and pass under our bridge. Saturday saw one such race and now we can't cross the bridge without checking to make sure there airen't any boats sliding underneath the bridge.
"River" was one of Ellis' first words. While I would like to say that it says something about his deep connection to the outside world, it actually tells you more about the tides of our own lives. You see, our little corner of the world is connected to the city of Stirling by a small pedestrian bridge. Yes, of course there is a road that takes traffic in and out, but it heads in the opposite direction of city life, down a long, dark country road.
And so, being car-less, we find our feet or 2 wheels taking us over the bridge many times in a week, every week, rain, shine, sleet or snow. We watch the river change with the seasons and the tide (something rivers in Iowa paid no notice of). Its a focal point of conversation with neighbours, "Isn't the river high/low/calm/rough today?". Its a popular outing for the smallest family member, with stones collected sometimes for days with the delicious intent of having them meet their fate on the muddy bottom of the Forth.