Sometimes, the moment we step off the main path, the wind picks up. It's this one particular trail where, in just a few feet, the trees close in. They come at your from the sides and from above and the breeze feels like a breath, like the canyon sighing.

It's coming on dusk when we take this walk, sunlight cutting out, shadows coming in, birds making final flights, and the memory of something a friend once said, that Solstice Canyon is a thin place, one of those spots where the veil between worlds has grown threadbare, makes me shiver.