In a somewhat ironic intersection with myth the original Styx (after which the Styx creek was named) was so awful that one could bind an oath just by using its name, and if you drank from it the waters would render you voiceless for nine years…
As I work in the duchy of Hamiltonia, I like to joke that I have to cross the Styx to get to work..
I thought that the rain we got the other week would result in a banker but it was such a slow, steady fall that the creek just rose, nice and slowly, and then fell, nice and slowly. The kind of rain the farmers love.
I always have mixed feelings about rain after a prolonged dry period. The creek gets so clogged up with gunk and rubbish that it’s kind of cathartic to have it all swept away by one huge, cleansing flood. But then I know that all the crap has just been shunted down to Carrington mangroves, or the harbour, or the beach.
It’s still … THERE … even though I can’t see it.
There was an article in the Herald about the OdysSea group, who are encouraging people to litter-pick along the beaches. They’re great, those young folk, and I must admit I rather envy them. The…
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