Today, Shelburne Falls was a tourist town. People on the street. I walked among them dazed by the beauty of the sky. Intricate, cloud-layered, gray. I ran to get my camera. I knew everything would be different when I got back. And it was. From the Iron Bridge where I stood, the river curves toward the falls. The sky opened.











On the Bridge of Flowers, the blossoms glowed against the gray, the view downriver soft. I bent to flower after flower, my camera a tool of worship.