It was of a celestine blue that faded into a mist, unfurled over the coastline of the lake. The mountains appeared to jut up into the sky with ribbons of white laced onto their crests. Distant evergreens shadowed the snow, and white steamers soared as clouds above a sapphire glaze that mirrored it all. It was a divine palette that Mark considered his front-row-center on paradise. He made a mental note to send Trapper Garza a picture postcard.

“That’s right. You did mention before how if one thinks it’s beautiful, then one would want more of it.”
“I think we’re making some progress,” she quipped.
“Are your proverbs and allegories mostly influenced by your Cherokee culture?”
“I’ve never really thought it one way or the other… My goal is to be open to wherever a truth arises.” She paused and then added, “Mark, do you see Native Americans through Hallmark images?”