It feels strange to stand in the middle of a river, having become accustomed to seeing it full. The big rains did not come. It has been a while since they did.
The stones of the river bed become islands, with Autumn providing some semblance of foliage.
That which lives off the river adapts. Plants spread down to the river bed while birds forage within the remaining pools of water.
The water hid things from view that are now exposed.
The rain will come though; it is only a question of when.