An evening stroll can never be wrong. To the left in the picture there should be a beaver hut, but it's either flooded or has been swept away by the swollen river.
The water under the bridge looks like silk,
and the cloud speckled sky is reflected in the puddles.
The chanterelles have started to show. They're still too small to pick, and I hope nobody takes them before they're ready. We feel they belong to us, really.
We continued deeper into the forest where we came upon freshly made bear-tracks! That's scary and a good reason to turn for home.
Could this be a bear?
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