“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.” A.A. Milne
I know these woods having walked this path through changing seasons and in midwinter it is covered in snow. The wood boards creak as I walk over the bridge. There is a cold head wind blowing through the bare trees. But I stop on the middle of the bridge to look out at the frozen water, recalling springtime.