The creek was clear and swift.
I thought the creek was close, but I don't hear it.
She heard the gurgling water before the creek came into view.
The grass around the creek was new, giving it a velvety look.
When they stopped beside a wide shallow creek, he crouched with his back to her.
I've never seen the creek so high!
A large Oak tree had fallen across the creek in a narrow deep area, trapping debris in front of it to form a natural dam.
Was this the same creek they had stopped to eat lunch beside that first time?
A half-hour later, at the creek, Gerald decided he wanted to walk a while.
As Rob crossed the foot bridge across the creek, Alex and Gerald emerged from the barn and started for the house.
How could she have let him talk her into swimming in a creek where snakes slithering around in the nearby bushes?
On the other side of the creek, Brutus plodded his way over to a tree.
Down the hill, across the creek and across the field to the buffalo shed? the crisp air traced their progress with a wisp of steam.
Its cool year-round creek and rolling hills dotted with wild flowers filled her dreams at night – beckoned.
There's a spot down yonder on the creek where all us kids used to swim in the summer.
It was after 11:00 by the time Dean struggled around the last turn and reached the summit of Wolf Creek Pass.
They paused at the creek while Ed and Princess drank.
The ride starts out fairly flat and then climbs—Wolfe Creek Pass at 10,850 feet, Poncha Pass at 9,019, Fremont at 11,318 and finally Loveland Pass at 11,992 feet.
The Dexter Creek Road departed from the highway a few miles north of town and climbed sharply up the eastern escarpment of the valley.
"I chased your yellow jacket down Wolfe Creek Pass today," Dean said.
Alex decided to ride down on his side of the creek and see if he could find a tree across the creek.
Crossing the creek and field to her house, she studied the hillside beyond for any sign of a deer.
She was remembering the view of the creek from the bridge - and the brush choking its banks.
I don't suppose you know Gladys Gillespie of Sow Creek, Idaho do you?
Up at the end of the Dexter Creek road—left at the fork, at the very end.
Both had driven up the Dexter Creek Road and knew the location.
But Wolfe Creek Pass, that was really something, wasn't it?
At the creek she pulled off her sandals and waded for a few minutes.
The creek flowed over a succession of rock ledges and formed pools at the edge where tadpoles swam.
She breathed deeply of the clear air and listened to the sound of the creek darting over rocks - swirling against its banks.
I was at the creek swimming when he came home.
Within an hour, they were riding side-by-side down the south bank of the creek, searching for the blocked area.
Memories beckoned from the creek so she pulled off her shoes, rolled up her pants legs and waded in the cool water for a while.
He gazed down the creek, his expression unreadable.
Below them a creek wound sluggishly through a narrow valley.
She moved away from him and contemplated the creek absently.
A sign informed them that they were entering the Canyon Creek Stewardship Project.
Dan ran ahead of them, Elise behind, and they flew down a deer path to a creek, then darted across rocks to the other bank.
Wolfe Creek Pass at 10,850 feet was unlike anything Dean had ever seen and easy wasn't the description that came to his mind.
In any case, I've walked that path many times from or to the creek at night.
Leaving the dairy, she crossed the field and then the creek, hopping from one stone to another to avoid getting her boots wet.
Carmen tossed the towel on a branch, kicked off her sandals and walked down the creek to the rope swing.
"I know the creek pretty well," she said.
She laughed and splashed through the creek to join him.
She walked down to the creek and waded through the water.
With the obstruction removed, water plunged down the creek bed, dragging debris with it.
A fish flopped in the pond, probably avoiding a snapping turtle, and water raced over rocks in the creek below.
Across the creek, on the hillside, two elk grazed contentedly.
She had played in the creek with Lori and Josh, and finally she had met Alex there.
They finally reached the creek, where Giddon stopped long enough to scoop her into his arms.
"Do you remember Gladys Gillespie of Sow Creek, Idaho?" she asked.
They crossed Canyon Creek and the site of an avalanche a few years earlier, now evidenced by the rubble of broken, twisted trees and displaced earth.
A whippoorwill was calling down by the creek, beginning each chorus with a kiss.
I used to catch crawdads in this creek with my friends when I was a kid.
After the obligatory shower, fresh clothes and a hearty supper, the tired body was beginning to revive, as long as the mind kept mum about tomorrow's 90 miles and the 10,850foot climb up Wolfe Creek Pass.
By the time they got back to the house, the creek was substantially lower – enough so that the bridge was emerging.
They found the ruins about a mile further where the creek followed a gorge between two high cliffs.
It crossed her mind that he might trip on the mossy rocks, but he crossed the creek with sure steps.
The couple drove over the narrow wooden bridge that spanned Red Mountain Creek, and joined two other cars in the small parking area.
At the creek Cade drew up and dismounted.
Once across the creek, she pushed her way up the overgrown trail and across the field, pausing to watch a couple of ducks on the pond.