Geysery

I was a little disappointed to have lost the light, for I'd pictured the springs as bubbling, roiling, geysery things, clear-pure and alive.

Bears groaned and shuffled about backstage, a moose looked at me with complete skepticism, and on a visit to Old Faithful — the venerable geyser that obligingly blows its top every 94 minutes or so — I saw a little girl with her mother, picking her way through the geysery, thin-crust landscape and singing, like some kind of gnome from the future, the chorus of Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood.”