I want you to imagine that you’re on this path in the gather dusk, the air is heady with the scent of flowers and ponderosa pine bark (hot swap in the aroma of butterscotch if you don’t have a visceral sense memory for ponderosa pine bark), there are little animals rustling in the undergrowth and birds singing sleepy songs…
And someone is shooting you repeatedly in the neck with a water gun.
This creek is beautiful but it’s also an opportunity for the child to refill the water gun. The water is so cold.
The flowers are beautiful but looking at them means opening yourself to water gun attack.














