I went to the creek earlier than normal. It’s trickier to walk the hidden trail in the back now, especially barefoot. The foliage is taking over. The smells are incredible. There were no falls as I walked down the middle of the creek.

As I finished my creek walk, a grandfather came down the incline, followed by two frolicking little girls. The grandfather asked me how slippery it was inside the creek today, so I told him to step into the water on the dam side. Because I sat on the embankment wall with my feet dangling in the air, I could hear him interact with his granddaughters. All I heard was kindness in his voice. Because of the splashing, I surmised that all three of them had taken off their shoes and socks, rolled up their pants as I had done, and stepped into the cool water. Such a simple pleasure, even to hear it as it unfolded.

When I walked back across the parking lot to my car, I got out several sticks of thick sidewalk chalk of various colors. I walked down to the creek bed and handed them to the grandfather. He was delighted as he handed them to his granddaughters. “What do you say,” he asked both of them. Both girls turned, smiled, and said thank you. “Draw something crazy,” I said, and wished them all a good evening.

As I walked away, one of the granddaughters asked, “What’s that sound” as the backdrop of insects roared once again. “Let’s draw whatever it is,” the other girl said.

It’s nice to hear good people doing basic things to enjoy the day. It makes me feel less eccentric.

Love, X
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It was about 4:00 a.m. I had a delicious bitter cup of coffee on the banister railing. The booms of thunder and lightning bedazzled my eyes and ears. It’s fascinating watching the traffic at that hour on Sunday morning. An unhealthy percentage drivers at that hour are on their way too or returning from unhealthy shenanigans. I heard the vehicle brake a little bit in anticipation of making a right turn across the railroad tracks. The big white suburban attempted to execute the turn while traveling at about 40 mph. As it turned, both passenger side wheels came up as the vehicle wildly turned and then spun all the way around, hitting the sidewalk curb. The wheels slammed back down. I expected the protuberance of the railroad rails to flip the vehicle. The suburban was motionless for a few seconds. The driver was probably checking his or her pants. Assuming they weren’t drunk and oblivious. I could not help but laugh. My laugh echoed much too loudly across the parking lot and against the building. Later, shortly after 5:00, huge gusts of wind buffeted anything not nailed down. I was already back outside with my broom to pick up the plants that I knew would not withstand the wind. None of them were mine. My corn stalks are on the inside railing and oblivious to the weather. My cat Güino darted outside long enough to get splattered by the rain. He was adorable, his face turned up against the wind and rain, his little nose and eyes squinting. He ran back inside when a singular wind gust slammed the door completely open.

Thanks for the light show.

X

There’s something to be said about walking a canopied path, one with an unknown terminus. I hear the dutiful mower off in the unmeasured distance and the inescapable traffic humming from another planet. Birds without cipher, and the gentle waterfall of the creek. I walk barefoot on the path. I am more than willing to accept the bite of an unexpected pebble. Descending into the creek, I let the energetic minnows nibble and dart at my feet. My feet toughen perennially with the inevitable warmth. As I stood in the creek today, I watched a snake rhythmically approach me. I stood motionless to avoid disturbing it or drawing its attention. In a moment of mindless forgetfulness, I reached into the creek to pick up a beautiful flat stone, forgetting my Fitbit watch on my wrist. Luckily, nature and technology called a truce. A woman and her blue-silver eyed German Shepherd came down to the creek bottom so that the dog could drink and frolic. He nuzzled my hand as I stood in water that was only a foot deep. He thanked me by splashing and shaking the water from his coat as he moved away. The solitude was refreshing, but I wish I could have had a hand near me, attached to someone listening to me pointing excitedly at what probably seems like mundane nature. For a while out there, there were moments I didn’t even have my own voice in my head.
Love, X
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Fate in the creek redux. It sounds like an elitist country music song. The mossy stones in the bed of the creek are slipperier than the nostrils of a 7-year-old in January. But the birds are chirping, bicycles and pedestrians are passing by above and beyond the rise that borders the creek. The sunlight is casting deep and mercurial shadows across the shimmering water. While it might not equal the smell of frying bacon on a random Saturday of my youth with my grandparents, It beats the hell out of working. I’ve always loved this but I must be getting older. I’ll know for sure when you hear me say that I have a favorite spatula. The only way it could feel any better is if somebody were carefully traversing the bed of the creek to hand me a slice of pepperoni pizza or a large french fry. Summer is definitely coming. But it’s not here today. Just a cool breeze and enough sunlight penetrating the canopy of the trees…
X