We were walking the path on Blackbird Island yesteday evening, watching the Cottonwood fluff float down off the tree limbs. We stopped on the footbridge, surrounded in a balmy snowstorm of sorts.

So dreamlike. I felt as if the elves of Rivendale should be standing in the high grass by the riverbank. Instead, there was a deer... it's white tail a flash against the green.

It won't be long now before it's warm enough to swim. I hung over the bridge rail and watched the river flow past. Vivid images of swimming in gold-glitter water as the sun filled the high mountain canyon slipped through my mind. A couple more weeks, and I'll be there again.