The snow-clad mountain to the right is an old vulcano called Cache Peak and a creek named after it meanders through our properties (if a dry creek can meander, not sure about that).
It goes under the short road that takes me and my neighbor, to the main road in the canyon and our mail boxes.
I haven't seen any water in this creek since the winter of 2011. Usually, it's just a dry creek bed and look at it now. A small waterfall is created as it goes under the road and comes out the other side.
After I took the pictures, I just stood there and listened to the water as it flowed. "Porlande vatten" it's called in Swedish. (I love it when a not often thought of word from my native tongue comes to mind. It may well have been 50 years since I last thought of that expression.) I couldn't think of the English translation, so I googled it: "Rippling water" comes closest.
I stood there and it was lovely, the sound of the water, sunshine, and snow in the mountains. Moments like that and you know life is good.
I have a night visitor. Actually, I have many but most of them stay under the northern eaves. This must be the early bird, because it stays to the east, where it gets awakened early by the dogs being let out. All puffed up in the cold, it is absolutely adorable.