Today was just one of those surprising spring days where there was real warmth. The sky was naked of fluffy ornament. This march of high pressure systems has eventually lifted me, making a change from the usual seasonal and moody malaise. Woodlands, at this time of year, are not a dark or dappled places (unless its the ever-present gloom of a conifer plantation). The trees are still chic sans clothing and no quarter is given for shade. It makes for a stark, bleached world. However, down in the valley bottom by Birch Clearing and the whispering woosh of water from the stream, there are few places more tranquil. Stark but tranquil. It is here I find myself ponassing some sea trout like a First Nationer may have done. It tasted sooo good. Pulling moist flakes off in my fingers, squinting into the trees, and pressing the fragrant morsels into my mouth. I found myself absentmindedly smearing the logs with my fingers, ridding myself of the rich residue of that majestic but oily aquatic. Some people maybe rich in money but impoverished by time. Money is no substitute for a priceless moment. I could be no happier than Here. There is only Now. Nothing else.