“The owl of Minerva flies at dusk.” As a child, for some obscure reason, I latched on to the idea of the Continental Divide. The mere mention of it has made my heart leap as if spotting an old friend ever since. Once, when we were doing focus groups out in Denver, a couple of us took a day trip up to the national park to “see” it. You can’t, really; you just know it. Context is everything. Hearing this familiar song last night seems to have cast it in a new light. Still to love; but different.