The day is grey and dull, no shadows and no breath of air, the river smooth and green as bottle glass. Sound carries over water when the wind blows away to the world's distant corners, and I could hear the water's purr and churn, the cars and bicycles crossing the oxide green span of bridge, the geese and ducks in the millrace pond across the river. Everything feels muted when the clouds hang low, barely skimming the treetops, the shapes distorted without sharp defining shade. The air feels chill against my cheeks and I could almost see the pollen spores drifting like pixie dust from the maples, firs, cherries, cedars and oaks that line the river path.

After crossing the wide river on the bike bridge, I turned downstream and my attention was arrested by a black shape bobbing about thirty feet out in the river. Cormorants are large black aquatic birds with teeth, and this one dove and disappeared, barely disturbing the smooth fast water's green sheen. I counted to forty-two. His sleek long head and neck broke the surface twenty feet upstream, and his body bobbed out and settled back into the water. He went gliding with the water's current downstream, and disappeared again, no trace in the swirl of water. I counted to seventeen. When he surfaced again he held a large silvery wriggling trout securely in his black barbed bill, and with an arc and thrust he spread his large black wings, then with two hard beats he was clear of the water. I watched him as he flew upstream skimming the surface, black wing tips tracing curled silver tattoos in the river's jade green skin.

I continued on my path and observed a large rhododendron in early bloom, the whole bush covered in flowers the color of clouds just before dusk. I found a sprig of flowers newly broken from its branch. The flowers are creamy white with a faint pink blush, trumpeted and frilled around the edge with nature's most appropriate excess. I find it peculiar such lush delightful flowers emit only a faint honey scent. The sprig has five big blossoms on it, each bloom the size of my fist. I kept my prizes, the soft white flowers and the vision of the hard black bird.