Now, a few days shy of winter solstice, little sun reaches the depths of Gold Creek Canyon. It can’t touch the creek itself, stubbornly liquid on this 14 degree day. I watch slices of light move across the snow covered ridges above the old A.J. Mine. Other slices light short segments of the flume carrying water to the hydro plant near the Indian Village. As if spooked by the bright light, Aki resists crossing these portions of the flume. I carry her until finding a section of mountain side where squiggles of ice formed from rock seepage sparkle. In seconds dusk replaces day, leaving us in the comforting grey.