paying the river

The deep green water rushed by quickly as tiny trickles of gravel occasionally fell from the menacing cliff face that dropped directly into the water. Digging my toes into the sand, I watched as the kids splashed in the water and the adults chatted around the sizzling grill. With the sun still high and bright, clouds of swallows flew at the cliff walls gathering bits of mud in their beaks to use for their nests.

We ate chili covered oranges and our faces grew sticky with the juice that dribbled down our necks. We jumped in again to wash it all off and lay back out in the sun for a few minutes to dry, lying on the warm sand as we inhaled the lush smell of the forest that mixed with the smoky smell of the carne that was azando.

After spending enough time at the picnic we drove with the kids to Guinda where the kids could play more easily in the shallower water. Standing up to our knees in rushing water, Mary and I held onto the kids as they dove around looking at fish and stones. Little Hector found the round stones and held them in his hand, calling them monedas. He threw each of them out to the river in payment for all the fun he was having saying, "here you go, sir" before tossing them downstream.