Blo

You know how to whistle, don’t you?  

 Things inevitably get plucked from the trail: the exquisite indigo conical grape hyacinths are among the irresistible casualties from Sunday. A few stalks lay on the path.

    This morning 7:30 am hear a bird sing and stop; 7:33 see a hawk carrying a bird body. I seem to recall a chickadee leg on the path yesterday that was unpleasant and therefore not to be mentioned. Sometimes the unpleasant is a fact of life. It looked like chickadee but in retrospect may have been a sparrow. Pray for prey.

   At the locks, the goose eggs sit exposed, at least two visible. One goose stands along the grass margin near the canal water. When I linger too long (or close to the area?) – where the nest is separated by a kind of haha the locks form between trail and nest, the female goose comes flying from the water where she was feeding. So I run pretty fast to the cover of the shrubs. She’s back on the nest. Hairs on my head are untouched. Maybe not the ones back of my neck.

   Today is a day for parking lot inspection and a wet matches pack with THANK YOU and a Charms brand Blow Pop wrapper are left behind. Picked plucked and left behind. So I round them up and take them home to add to the leaf and raindrop pattern from the trail. To have and to have not. You just put your lips together and blow.

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2 Comments on “Blo”

  1. S. Le Says:

    Lovely. I can always imagine the scene because of the apt description of your experience on your walks.


  2. Thanks for going along!


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