As you look north a cliff peeks above a multicolor wall of trees that borders the parking lot. The wet jagged stone high in the distance is crested with its own layer of dark green pines and flaming maples. Left, a pair of iron rails meander behind a row of still green oaks, following the curves of the river that must surely be behind another layer of the muted rainbow all around. Clouds and contrails drift lazily by as the gunfire echoes off the cliffs.