Mist hour
Rain is a trimmer. Mist is a quieter one.
A peak that lived on a dry Wednesday can be furniture by a wet Sunday at Riverfront.
We do not own the river. We own a log of mist hours: Minto-Brown mornings that never lift, Wallace gusts after a front, Bush's Pasture evenings that hold water in the rye. The gate follows the hour, not a national chart printed for a desert.