Sunbeams slice through misting rain like high beams through fog. Light and shadow spotlight mountain shoulders wrapped in spruce shawls, crowded together in a patient line - each frame a deepening shade from green to black.
I curve through the valley on a casual road, capture frames of junk cars, prairie grasses, abandoned barns. Run with a giggling creek (the one with a glint in its eye) who throws rocks and plays peek a boo around corners.
Detour to drive over the wooden bridge with no rails, hike up a washed out road. Discover cliffs and jump into clear emerald water chilled by silver springs. Float in gold sunlight and laughter, watch fear and foolishness fly off higher ledges, splash into long-weekend legends, climb again to dry roast on boulders.
The dog and I rest under shade, watch the world swing from the hammock. Tall branches pose no obstacle for scolding squirrels or the bevy of birds flitting like fireflies. Raucous Whiskey Jacks scavenge at nothing, Chickadees bounce like salt and pepper from a shaker, peck at insects in the dirt. For supper, Juncos catch moths and my thoughts.
We drift away, hot cloudless day melts in orange fire sunset over water into dark chocolate night. Distant coyotes yip over a kill, silence sings a lullaby. The dog circles, curls her body careful against my side, settles and sighs. We smile ourselves to sleep.
Photo credit: Joyce Rempel
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