The water bubbles and cascades across the rocks, spraying a shimmer of mist into the cool evening air. He watches a butterfly skip from flower to flower, vivid flashes of its gossamer wings caught in the last rays of the sun. Soon it will be time to leave, to pack his easel and paints and drive back into the city. He studies his canvas. Her cheeks blush as she smiles back at him, wistfully, their tiny infant cradled in her arms. Would he ever finish them and hang them together in the unfinished nursery like he always promised her he would?