In My Wildest Dreams
I am walking on the banks of a small stream somewhere in the mountains above Nevada City, surrounded by the cacophony of countless birds, a chorus of frogs, and what seems like thousands of crickets and cicadas. The light is high yet filtered through a layer of wispy clouds and it falls gently to my eyes between the branches of small saplings that litter the banks and their older cousins who began life a bit further from the water’s current course. Butterflies flit around the multitude of...