I pulled on Rufus’s fly fishing waders and drove to a nearby stream to harvest watercress. The waters whispered their ever slipping secrets in the hush of the valley. Cress commands the surface area here, with pockets of purplish mint peeking through. I submerged only calf-deep, waiting for the waders to prove their capacity before going any further. Encircled by floating wild edibles, I sliced at the surface, separating greens from an entanglement of an underwater world. The waders allowed for a relatively warm and dry experience, a decent upgrade from my history of losing chore boots under water and going barefoot.