Living by a creek in Vail, an open window, the lullaby:
I loved that sound, what Wallace Stegner, in one of his many books, called “The Sound of Mountain Water.” In those same years I often kept my window open at night, lulled to sleep with the sweet discourse of a billion water molecules sloshing, slamming, slithering down the nearby creek, impatient to join the mighty Colorado River about 35 miles away.