We were by the train tracks, next to the big river. There was an old bridge going over, engraved "1912". I went down by the mossy rocks at the edge of the water, and pointed out all the berries and seed pods that hung from the trees like christmas ornaments. I found that the most beautiful thing by far was a small down feather caught on a tiny dead plant near the tracks. I could've watched it flutter in the wind all day long, probably.

