I am regularly gob-smacked, particularly after high-water events, by the seemingly aesthetic placement of sticks, leaves and other detritus among rocks in streams that I frequent. There is something about the care/no care, eye/no eye, mind/no mind aspect of this that brings me into a moment which stretches back to the moments when the arrangements were placed by flowing water, and even further to when leaves were on trees, sticks were branches, stones were rounded by water, layers of sediment were laid down, morphed into rock, then uplifted into these mountains we love.