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Vernal equinox has come and gone for the year and we tip more towards the ball of fire that is the Sun than we do away. Longer days stretch out before us.
My daughter and I chat about our hopes for dreamy days by the river, fresh sandwiches and pink lemonade moments interspersed by cool, wild swims in a seemingly perfect halcyonic existence.

We look forward to natural abundance, to the lime green glow beneath overarching alders, and to finding our feet on slick pebbles through a cool, shallow flow.

There will be the buzz of Dipper and Kingfisher wings. There will be Beautiful Demoiselles alighting on sedges. We’ll hug each other whilst balancing on fallen trees laying across the stream.

Dreams based on memory feed the imagination of what is possible.
Whether via pictorial or descriptive representation, through any or all of the senses, to imagine is as important to possibility as it is to dream.