Through arching green boughs draped with silver moss we ascend to the granite rockface washed with whitewater cascading in tiers from invisible Source to the tumbled boulders below. The rustle of this billowing train whispers in the echoing nave.
We have hiked this trail before. Skirting the Pixie Cups and Fairy Slippers. Tending the Shooting Stars. With child ears I still hear her telling me the understory--Five Fingers, Maidenhair, Bracken, and Sword ferns. With her eyes I first did see bruised white blossoms 'neath the canopy dappled with growth and decay.