Scott and I had a lovely convertible ride on back roads to the trail along the Susquehanna that starts at Conowingo Dam. And then an hour of me walking and him running the trail. I was hoping to see some Virginia bluebells, for they grow in profusion there, and silly me, I am too late. The river was high and fierce and muddy. The big rocks where heron usually stand to contemplate life and, oh yes, fish are all under water. So many herons startled from the shore as I passed, and many more were to be seen on the islands. The river-edge is sparkly with dappled shade, water reflections and bird song; the path is already fully shaded. Back home my red (actually, more like a deep crinson, almost maroon) trillium is in full bloom.