The Dry River Wasn’t Dry

The Dry River spills over Slab Road, Dayton, Virginia.

I appreciate the simplistically specific way of naming roads in Rockingham County, Virginia. The roadways are numbered, of course, but the colloquial names are what people know. Slab Road is a prime example.

Hardly a half mile long, Slab Road connects two main county roads. Between the two is the Dry River, often devoid of water. A solid cement slab serves as the roadbed that crosses the riverbed from bank to bank. Thus, the unusual but appropriate name for a public road.

After some recent rains, the river flowed steadily over the slab, forming a mini-waterfall. I wanted to gather some rocks for a water feature I was assembling for our backyard birds. The high water limited my search to the south side of the slab. While collecting a few stones, I couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the evening sun filtering through the trees and reflecting off the smooth surface of the now not-so-dry river.

The need for a few flat rocks drew me to this inspiring scene that warmed my soul during this day’s golden hour.

© Bruce Stambaugh 2023

Author: Bruce Stambaugh

Writer, marketer, columnist, author, photographer, birder, walker, hiker, husband, father, grandfather, brother, son, township trustee, converted Anabaptist, community activist, my life is crammed with all things people and nature and wonder. My late father gave me this penchant for giving and getting the most out of life, my late mother the courtesy, kindness, and creativity to see the joy in life. They both taught me to cherish the people I am with. I try and fail and try again.

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