Marshy Reverie

The afternoon was quiet, and the sounds of the day were beginning to fade away. It being late fall evening came quickly, and here in the trees, at the edges of the swamp, darkness descended without warning. The river gurgled quietly to itself as it meandered lazily by, leaving something more or less resembling a marsh behind it. It didn’t matter much for the boundary between dry land and not dry land wasn’t nearly as defined as you might imagine. The cabin, boarded up for the moment, was oblivious to all else save its reverie of the days gone by.

This scene was made near Jefferson, Texas not far from the Louisiana border. The entire area seems like a throwback to a far earlier time; a time when steamboats still plied the rivers coming up from the Gulf of Mexico, a time when the land was still being tamed, and a time when there still a good bit to be discovered. It is like stepping back into time, and when the afternoon’s silence is absolute, the boundary between now and then isn’t nearly as clear as one might believe.

Darkness swept in and covered the marsh in its inky blackness. The cabin scarcely noticed as it continued its dreams of then and now.

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