I stepped shin deep into the brook this early morning. I just wanted to be in it. My sneakers filled with chilly water. There was no reason to hurry past this sopping patch of marsh, I had time: to listen to the soft rush of water over rocks; to feel spring water washing over my shins toward the river. Here was a memory of winter: of birds I found pictured in ice. Now, just the noise of them in the trees, their frisky songs.

All photos and text copyright Kelly DuMar 2017