The creek is cool green and clear, running in and out of sunlight. A water ouzel bobs on a rock, hops into the riffle, and up to another rock, still bobbing. We follow her downstream, each taking our own path over algae slick rocks, over pebbles, over sandstone carved into fantastic, hollowed shapes, down waterfalls. We lose our small guide but keep going, walking in the creek or stepping stone above it, scrambling over boulders, swimming the deep pools. Water striders cast quick shadows on the sandstone. This park is in the center of the city but today no one else has ventured so far off the path. We’re alone in the dappled sunlight with the birds and striders. The running water drowns the sounds of traffic. The trailing blackberries are ripe, tiny and so sweet. We eat all we can reach, stuffing ourselves on summer.
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