By Cathy Hird
A small stream runs between our house and the road. This creates a swamp on one side of the lane and a pond for ducks, frogs and turtles on the other. A culvert lets us drive across most of the year, but in the spring when rain melts snow, the flow is more than the metal tunnel can handle. We walk through the flowing water in rubber boots to the car parked on the road side of the stream.

All through our area, culverts of various sizes allow spring's overflow to pass under our roads. Small bridges provide pathways for streams so that our roads can ignore them. Sideroads and concessions are able to follow the squared paths that the surveyors drew out, paying no attention to the shape of the land.

Park on the shoulder of the road near the bridge and we can step out over the water to look down at the flowing stream. In a few places, there are walkways that pass over top of a falls. There, we can stand above the roaring water, watch the ever-changing movement, catch sight of momentary rainbows. The powerful water-flow moves beneath us, sometimes lightly spraying us, always filling our ears with sound.

We don't have massive falls in our area, but we have visited them, at the very least in Niagara. These places where huge rivers drop over cliffs are incredibly powerful. No bridges span them. We may cross the gorge nearby but the power of these falling rivers creates a barrier between one side and the other.

In this area, we don't have rivers of that size, and sometimes we act as if they are not in our way at all. Driving into Hanover from Walkerton, the road runs dead straight. There are two sections of bridge there. We have to cross two sections of river, but the driver can ignore that because the road does.

Not everywhere in our area is that possible. Further north, as roads approach the Saugeen River, they twist and turn so that the bridge can find solid ground and a good path to span the water. There are some beautiful views as a result. In Owen Sound, a driver hits frustration on 10th Street because managing the busy roads means complicated lights. The town often wishes for another bridge across the sound while many ignore the crossings on 8th and 9th streets.

Despite the challenges it brings, the river that runs through town is not that big. Each time I visit New York State, I am stunned by the width of the Hudson. That river stands between places I want to get to. The route has to be carefully planned because only a few bridges cross the expanse. At times, I have to drive a fair ways downstream to find a place to cross and then travel back upstream to the place I seek.

We have family that live just on the New Jersey side of the George Washington Bridge into New York City. As we approach, we watch extremely carefully for the exit we need, knowing that if we miss it we will be swept across the Hudson into the city.

Crossing a sound or a gulf, can happen. On a trip to Greece, we travelled by bus from Athens to the northwest coast. The bus travelled through Corinth and along the south shore of the gulf that divides Thessaly and the Peloponnesus. The north shore of the gulf is rugged, and even if the traveller went further north onto the plain, they would hit the huge mountains that cut the coast off from the rest of the land. So the bus followed the highway along the coast right up to the ocean. Then, where once ferries and boats were the only way to cross, there is now a stunningly beautiful bridge. This carried our bus swiftly across the barrier between two parts of Greece and eased our way to the restful village of Parga.

Coming back home, crossing the culvert in our lane, I stop to see who is in the pond. A heron takes off. Another day, the muskrat swims right toward me. The painted turtle dives. What would I have seen if I could have stopped the bus in the middle of the bridge across the Gulf of Corinth?
Cathy Hird is a farmer, minister and writer living near Walters Falls.