The River Runs

Wednesday it rained, day and night.

Thursday noon when I went to the post office the river was running higher and faster, the color of caffè latte.

I thought, ah yes, of course, the river’s running. It rained. I didn’t think, I’m seeing the great shaping force of this part of the country roused from a long seasonal slumber.

I didn’t connect even though I’d spent the morning looking at Daniel Koning’s “Preliminary Geologic Map of the Española 7.5-minute Quadrangle” which shows a lopped triangle with the Rio Grande and Route 285 on the sides, the Rio Pojoaque to the south and the Santa Cruz river on the north just above where I was driving over the Griego bridge.

He shows the road near my house skirts what he labels a “geological contact.” The soils to the river side have recent alluvial origins. The ones to the east date back to an earlier Tertiary period. Since the time before the great glaciers when the river began to connect the discrete basins of the rift valley, water has been digging and padding its channel.

It’s removed or redeposited the existing tertiary sediments, or perhaps both at the same or different times, and left a boundary area that needs no geologist to recognize.

I went back to today to the Griego Bridge to see the river at the point the Santa Cruz enters. The current was slower, but the water was still carrying dirt. Gravel and sand have been deposited where the dammed and controlled water flow of the one meets the less tamed Rio Grande.

Then I drove home and looked again at that “geological contact” out the car window. You could imagine the grass as some great sea lapping against dunes. And like ladies of a certain age who once were rivals and now nod when they meet, you can only guess their pasts from the differences in their outerwear, their vegetation.