It would be nothing without the gray

On an evening walk with Aki I carry a camera, photographing grazing mountain goats, hard woods with a just a fuzz of new leafs, and a small course of water soaking green moss. There are smells too like the perfume of bursting balsam popular buds and the cleansing  sounds of water runoff from recent avalanches and robin sound. Returning to Chicken Ridge we see the sunset reflected orange, red and gray in a neighbor’s craftsman window.

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