“When the female swam away and resumed her solitary lake wandering, she left behind thousands of fertile eggs, fallen from her body into crevices between the cobbles. It’s a kind of faith this shining fish practices, returning, perhaps from a vast distance, to plant life in the place where she came to life. It’s faith in the goodness of the rocks, their sheltering crannies, their cold-water cradles. She tucked her eggs there, away from predators, away from churning currents. Then she left. She’s done all she can do. Vital but dormant, the eggs wait, as she once waited, until winter ends. It’s what they must do to wake.”
–Gayle Boss, All Creation Waits: the Advent Mystery of New Beginnings, p. 71
