The last three weeks have been all about water--or sky--or possibly both. Good thing I have good chest waders! Moving between the still icy shores of Lake Superior and a lovely river in Ontario I find myself once again becoming hopelessly lyrical, as in these little delicacies shot when the light in Canada kept turning into an homage to Turner. This is apparently what happens when I swear off the poetical. Next time I'll renounce the prosaic and see what happens!