a jaunt,

an effort at exploration,  out to Snoqualmie Falls. There was snow on the ground and clouds mingling  amongst tree trunks.

The water fell in wispy sheets, like powder, in the cool humid air.

From high above water seemed to float gingerly down then melt and fade away rather than crash or flow.

In every moment, with each click of the camera shutter, a skirt around the impacting water changed form, a choreography of mist and air.

From the trees on the walk to the view of the falls dripped melting snow like raindrops. Ice and melting snow  clung to budding flowers, declaring “Spring is near!” It’s all too common, this seasonal change, but so miraculous to me.

There is something poetic about my entry into a world of actual seasons (in Southern California there is perpetual summer with a few weeks of chilly air and rain mixed in occasionally) at this time of year, near the end of winter and just before the most welcomed season of them all, spring.

I am thankful for and humbled by it.