a thousand words; this one might even inspire some words for a sing-along : “How high’s the water, Mama? …” And all the while lazily drifting beneath the cottonwood shade, in a flat-bottom boat.
My niece and I capped off our Sunday afternoon date by finding the end of a road labeled “No Outlet”. She’d heard it wound up at the river, looking across to Lolo, Montana, ten highway miles south of Missoula. Lo, and behold, she heard right.