May 29, 2005
Down, down, down we roll from just daylight into deep twilight under the fog in Boxley Valley, south through the bottomland fields, then up again along the curving flank of Smith Creek valley, racing towards day but stopping short, and then piling out, collecting gear and water, a snack for the old man and a snack for Junie, and stick and hat. And then we set off walking deeper into twilight again, adjusting ourselves to the pace of the forest, where taking a half hour to travel a mile is making good time, as well as making a good time.

Then we're there again, where the old ones of the woods, the enormous shards of ancient bedrock, have gathered for awhile along a stretch of Smith Creek in the long journey down from the slowly fracturing hills.

So we clamber and scramble up boulder and down steep bank, we ants of an hour, so busy and important, and busily go about our business until fog and twilight all burn away.

I'm not exactly sure any more when I took today's Back Light photo, probably the spring of 2002 or 2003. You may recognize it as the Glory Hole falls, a name which, by the way, I've never liked, though I won't say why because you would need to have the children leave the room first. Let's just say I would much prefer to call it the Heart of the Hill falls.