I got out on the (Slocan Valley) rail trail at around 3 in the afternoon, just as the sun was about to set behind Frog Peak.
On certain winter days, like this one, the light has a magical quality. The colours are rich, but weightless and clean, hinting at an elusive, shimmering matrix of energy that underlies the world we perceive.
The river and the light become partners in a dance of motion, colour and scintillation.
As the sun sinks below the horizon, the light turns golden.
Here in the valley, the light is fading, but the mountains and ridgetops are still aglow with the last rays of the day.
For the denizens of the river, like this pair of hooded mergansers, it's just another day. They'll soon find a sheltered nook in which to settle for the long winter night.
As the light fades, the river reflects the shifting colours of the evening sky.
I've walked or skied along this section of the river and the Slocan rail trail dozens of times, and each time is a new experience, with fresh nuance to the beauty that resides here.
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