I wanted to write about the moss wrapping trees in the deepest forest with a  burning green fire.  Backlit by the morning sun, it seemed the most important thing.

Aki and I rediscovered these moss covered trees after abandoning the old river trail. It will soon be made impassible by spreading devil’s club leaves. On this trail, only the river matters with its gravel bars jammed with stacks of drift wood, some whole trees with roots attached. These give evidence of the power of flooding torrents. Such proof is needed today, when the current raises barely a ripple on the river’s surface.

After the moss, came the geese, seen not heard this time, as they searched the river meadowlands for safety. While heading there I was diverted by sun and shadow playing on the still white mountains rising out of the spruce forest. A line of bare branched alders formed an imperfect screen across the base of one peak. Aki and I admire   the winter above mix with spring below and return to town.