If you look on our property deed you’ll see the small creek that runs t
hrough our holler noted as Meadows Creek, but we’ve always called it the Stamey Branch. Pap said the Meadows part must have come from someone who lived in the area before his grandpa moved here-or for whoever was going about naming creeks as they mapped the land.
The Stamey Branch has enjoyed an entire year of being full. With the ample rain we’ve had in western North Carolina the creek ran at full capacity throughout 2013 and so far-it’s keeping up with the trend for 2014.
Have you ever heard the siren call of water? Maybe it’s the ocean for you; a fast rolling river; the calmness of a sparkling lake; or maybe you’re like me and it’s the gurgling waters of a small mountain creek that calls your name and beckons you to come.
As I child I spent so much time playing around the creek I didn’t notice the call. But after I was grown and married with more obligations than I knew what to do with, I began to hear the creek call to me. Sometimes the longing hits at the most inopportune moments like when I’m rushing out the door to go somewhere, or when I’m halfway done with a chore that just can’t be interrupted like cooking super, or late in the night when I awake in my bed and hear the waters of the Stamey Branch hurrying on their way to Brasstown and beyond.
The creek loomed large in my mind as a child. It seemed to be full of hidden crevices and secrets only I could find. As with many things in life-the creek didn’t seem nearly as big once I became an adult. Yet it still calls to me as an old friend who knows me better than I know myself.