Funny. It still looks the same. Out front. In town. On the trail.

In our dinky dog town - Mosier, Oregon. Population 430.

Columbia River style.

And the sky is still reflecting.

And the fish are starting to jump.

For joy.

And bugs.

And you only see a flitter -

but you hear the splash

and their ripples remain, long afterwards.

And after the cold and grey

and challenge of winter.

They return again.

To lift us up.

And we are reminded of what matters most.

On the winding trail ahead.

Behind.

This one.

This uncharted path.

And the ones we’ve walked for years.

And the layers.

Of lichen.

And light.

And life.

And in the distance…

our home.

In spring, I get two dogs, for the price of one.

As my doxie and his shadow twin drag me along the trail.

And we’re not social distancing.

Nope. Not Doodle ‘n I.

We’re in it together.

As we humans reinvent the social norms -

of 6 feet away - or more.

And businesses are closed.

And we’re worried.

But I know we'll find each other.

I know we’ll invent new ways to show we care.

And new ways to care for each other. 

Social media - a whole new meaning.

And PS, those huge rainbow trout in the pond right now are just spring crazy. Showing off.

Jumping for joy.

And bugs.

A great reminder.

Just when we’re getting all wrapped up in our human condition - Trout speaks up.

And makes us smile.

And just around the corner… sleep walking trees. And rusty dinosaurs.

Our home beach.

And kiters.

Like trout. 

Just waking up.

Making up. Lost time. Free time. No time like this.

A couple brave kiters already out there. Getting big spring air.

There is no place like home.

We’re stuck here, after all.

But are we really stuck?

'Tis spring.

Easter almost.

We'll come back from this.

We daffodils.

We trout.

We reflections.

We can be stronger. Closer. And farther away, all at the same time.

We are one.

- Barb Ayers, Emergency Manager, Hood River County (on my day off from COVID response)