By Matt Russell
I’m in a canoe on an upland river. My daughter is on the bow seat, leaning forward, clutching the gunwales with her small hands. “Wonderwall” by Oasis is playing aloft in the breeze of a monochrome sky.
Penelope’s short brown hair is tied back in two stubby pigtails. OshKosh overalls over a pink t-shirt. A team of horses runs in the autumnal periphery. I dip my paddle to steer us around a shallow bar. We enter a narrow gorge and I look up and see unmanned construction excavators perched atop the canyon walls, long steel arms extended and cutting into the rock, causing large chunks to slide and plunge into the water around us.