I climbed under a waterfall at Swallow Falls, a park tucked away past serpentine lanes. The tiniest baby ferns were curled up on a rock shelf all fleshy and emerald and I drank sweet cold water by the handful.

{We've gone from the suburbs of DC to the western mountains and now it's raining and gray on the eastern shore (Ocean City gleamed green last night from the wooden windy deck of this West Egg here in the pines)}