Riverside cottonwoods display dappled blends of green and yellow. Sycamores shimmer copper-brown and willows look like they have been dipped in mustard. On the return, we pass a major side canyon. The following day I return. The trail follows a variegated ribbon of green, yellow and orange.
Trees shade the stream.
I traipse up alone, looking for familiar places in a countryside cast in vague familiarity. Near our old campsite, I halt at the stream's source. Perhaps it is only the wind, but near hike's end, I think I hear the eerie notes of a distant flute. The sound amplifies as I approach the canyon's last pool. There, a young woman plays from her perch beside the palisades.