Row Boat Along the Juniata River

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters." - Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It.


This is the Juniata River, sometimes referred to as "the blue Juniata"; a river I consider to be my family river.

We drove along the river Sunday on our way to and from visiting my family: a day when we celebrated several October birthdays, including that of my 82-year-old mother, and also that of her 7-year-old granddaughter.

In an earlier (March) photo of the Juniata River, I told you the story of Alfarata, an Indian princess from the Juniata River Valley whose story became the stuff of song and legend.

And in an October blip, I shared a photo of Mount Nittany, and yet another tale of a local Indian princess whose story became famous. Princess Nita-Nee was also born along this river, but in later years crossed the Seven Mountains to find her destiny.

Autumn has come to the Juniata River. The trees are shades of orange, yellow, green, and just a few reds; starting to wax golden at the edges, even brown. And though there is no Indian canoe to move quietly along these waters, there is a row boat waiting at the edge.

Walking on the stones worn by ancient raindrops - paths that the feet of Indian princesses have trod - I am mindful of time and of my place in it. I step outside of time to watch the ghosts of this river. The river rolls on, with or without us.

I am haunted by waters.