Old, old photo. Same stream, but not shot on today's ramble.
Arabesques of smoke curl through the air between me and the view of a stream making its way between banks of snow... and I don't know where to take that from there. My thoughts don't flow as smoothly as the stream. They're frozen like the ice that skims the edges, and as vaporous as the wisps of smoke that dissipate before me. Time to move on.