As it had been in the Garden, mine were the only footprints in Queen's Canyon; I was the first human visitor over the fresh snow. It was cold, and I took careful steps in the many stream crossings that were required to reach the falls and beyond.
Autumn and winter were greeting one another. Leaves of the deciduous trees and shrubs had fallen into the stream. They were gathering together on the downstream side of pools.
About an hour into the canyon, a young man carrying a Bible caught up with me. We became companions. We discussed photography and his upcoming mission to Haiti as we threaded our way over rocks and stream and fallen trees. His name was Steve. I took one picture of him. He was pondering from a high perch above the falls. I hope he will be safe in Haiti; it is a dangerous place.
Small things stood out this morning, and they became my dominant subjects.