I’ve taken to calling the property that is to become the new home of our farm (and us!) “Gravel Creek.” This is to avoid confusion when I say things like “I have to pop by the farm to pick up my toolbox.” Which farm? Well, the original one has always been called The Farm, and since the creek that runs through the new place is actually called Gravel Creek, it seems to make sense. Even if the name isn’t very romantic sounding. But the fact of the matter is, the creek IS romantic… it burbles and splashes, passes through hill and dale, ducks around hoary old trees and tickles the toes of tiny saplings. The bed of the creek is actually gravelly, not muddy, but it’s a pleasant shiny rounded sort of gravel, not the dusty crushed rock gravel you’d see on a road.
Another charming thing about Gravel Creek is that it’s reportedly salmon habitat. I am a big fan of those shiny, muscular fishies, and they remind me of pleasant times years ago, traveling with my Dad up to the U.P. of Michigan to spend time splashing around at the Carp River trying to catch some of our own. We were only successful on occasion, but it was always a good time going and smelling the pines. When we were looking into the idea of buying Gravel Creek, a friend of ours who does salmon surveying for Fish & Wildlife first mentioned that salmon could be seen there. I’m pleased to report that last week I had the first sighting. It was a sunny day, so I plopped down belly against the bridge and lay gazing onto the bubbling waters. After a few minutes, I noticed movement- there were a few small salmon fry loitering about! How exciting! So I took this picture to show my dad, and now you can see it too.
