We went for another hike by another mountain stream over the weekend. (I couldn’t get in this one, since it’s a watershed; very hard for Moley.)
I don’t know where this fascination with running water has come from but I’m about ready to see if I can go make a life on a river, just like Mole:
This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy of running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly among them.
(The entirety of The Wind in the Willows is online, btw.)