Feng shui means wind water and today brings a definite wind.  Fail to see any herons on my walk, and part of my activity includes picking up sticks. The wind has helped rid the trees of excess small branches. The path is full of them. The sun is out for a change; all week has been glooomy gray and wet.

   Ray comes by on his bike and using the picked up sticks as a gate across the way, I say: Stop! Pay toll!

   Ray says there is a fairy tale or Mother Goose Rhyme where one must pay a troll to go over the bridge: Stop! Pay Troll!

   We are free and there a neither tolls nor trolls here.

   The puzzle I make for today is ugly not pretty and disjointed rather than integrated and this displeases me, yet some times it  is best not to judge and to leave something alone and make it work anyway. My mind is preoccupied with question of how best to tackle a new feng shui project. Someone has offered me the job of cleaning out their garage. First step is an inspection of the property and then, to form a plan, make a recommendation and draw up an estimate.

 Needless to say, today is National Pins and Needles day. To be on pins and needles, to be awaiting, on edge, on a pincushion is to be in great form. To get out one’s voodoo dolls and stick pins in them! Cotter pins. Nine pins, ten pins, bowling pins! Pine needles! Spruce needles. Space needles. The threads are endless. Go celebrate. Early morning shopping was not dead at 6:00 when I was out. Fraternity and sorority pins, sisters and brothers unite! Untie the knot. Pin the tail on the donkey. Pina coladas, pine nuts, pince nez. Pindar and Chopin. Pings and scallopini. Opinion polls and compass needles. Pinups, pasties and pastries. Pointellism and poinsettias, needlepoint and petit point. Toe points and pint sizes and ping pong. Open the vowels and change it up for pens, pans and, er, puns. Hoping sloping and coping. Saw one, seen them all. Less is all you need. Less is more.

   Just when I think there will be no Thanksgiving Day heron sightings, one flies away from the bank near half-mile rapids. It is quiet; the bird is slate-colored on this overcast and somber holiday morning. The squirrels are out in abundance, gnawing and gathering nuts and shimmying up a trees. I spot a woodpecker.

    The parking lot contains many cars, the trail contains fewer people than expected, many of them are strangers and most are lone men. Tom, on the run, says the upper lot is the same: jam-packed, most likely with hunters.

   The squirrels are healthy and grey and out number the people. Many squirrels and squirrelly men?

   On ESPN radio, the hosts discuss pumpkin pie and sweet potato pie and who eats which. One host eats sweet potato pie, never pumpkin; the other host prefers pumpkin. They wonder if the best game for today is Patriots/Redskins, which brings up a whole new issue.

   Graphic capabilities hampered at present. Please pardon our dust.  Feng shui today.

  One tiny white paper star accents the extra penny container at the coffee shop this morning. It is a thing of beauty, a star. Star white, star bright. It is an idea, an ideal. A beacon, even shining, yet oddly pointed balanced and regular. 

    The paying customer receives a punch on a coffee card for every cup of coffee purchased. With ten punches you get the one free. This coffee shop uses a star hole punch. Ten cups is at least ten dollars. Ka ching!

   One heron flies above Palisades drive.  A complete walk on a lovely sunny morning. Fall is in session. A couple ride past on bicycles. Their fleece tops almost match, with just a shade of difference: one color is persimmon, the other pumpkin. Other colors in the fashion report are red and black and claret and black. Because it is a four day, I wear shades of purple or rich colors.

   Today is a day to look at the wealth corners; today is a day to examine relationships and do both in the context of wisdom, rational thought and creative eights. Not crazy, just creative.

  A three day and at sunrise the mist infiltrates the air space above the creek. Today walk to the three marker and no herons. Two delightful small birds on a decaying log. Soft amber tan and yellow. My birding skills leave something to be desired. Some things are best admired as they are. The mist in the air makes me think about clarity of purpose, purifying the path.

   The racing guys on ESPN Race Day say how important it is to start up front. Early day to work, and to work I must start.

   Many herons alert and fishing. Rain yesterday afternoon and into the night. What else is new? Tom, running by, asks if my camera is ready for winter.  I confess the motor is shot. May need to invest in new camera. Tom’s wife is cooking for turkey day. His part is putting up the table to accomodate the 12 to 16 people. The table is cherry with abundant leaves and he picked it up at auction through a process of patience (repeated visits to auction) and timing (being at auction the day this table went on the block). Such is life.

   “Did you ever notice people don’t ever tell you the whole story?” he says, when he tells me it took a few attempts to get this gem of a table.

   “Kind of like Babe Ruth,” I say. “How many times did he strike out? Yet, he holds records.”

   Make mental note to brush up on witty comebacks. There’s always more than meets the eye or ear.

  Victor is waiting to talk to me when I’m looping back. He says he will walk up to the red bridge, but when I drive away along the main stream of the creek, he is still where we spoke.

   What is power bait?  Two days ago, on Tuesday, a Powerbait packet lay in the park parking lot. When I saw it I thought it said Powerball. Upon closer inspection it turned out to be a 3″ by 3″ plastic zip bag with little wormy man-made maggots for fishing. Avoiding all temptation to take it home, I put it on the lost and found rock so whomever might come back for it would be sure to see it.

   This morning my take-home payola, the pick of the litter, is a black paper bat which is more to my liking, Paper Czar that I am. It reminds me of the slant board at the gym where it is sometimes a pleasure to recline in a partially upside-down mode and let the blood go to my head. A kind of flow of comfort.

   The bat reminds me Hallowe’en is over and here is Thanksgiving and the season of flying around in the dark since the time changed at the beginning of the month. The nearby shopping center is full with vehicles day and night. Who has spending money? 

   This morning a coworker said she is preparing corn, sweet potatoes, and macaroni and cheese to contribute to next week’s feast. Comfort foods. The retail grocery at the abovementioned shopping center is part of a chain that reported 3rd quarter profits and that makes me think much of that was because people seek food and comfort food during hard economic times.  That’s power bait. The quality of mercy is not strained.

   An absence of herons today. Yesterday found someone’s work I.D. badge on the trail. Her name and mine contain the same intitials, the same number of syllables, only she was an Allyson, a friend, an ally.

   Herons point to point. One at point A where my walk begins, one at point B where my return trip starts. Steeplechase, point-to-point, horse racing and heronspotting. And they’re off!

    The township leaf collection is going on – the truck and apparatus gobble up the leaves left along Tulpehocken Road.  In large lettering on an orange background on the side of the leaf collector: Last Pickup Dec. 4th. Can’t miss that. Have to like that, no mistake about it.

   All hands on board! Today is National Clean Out the Refrigerator Day, when you can scan the shelves for favorite and forgotten items, wash the veggie bins, neaten and organise and feel no guilt for throwing away food that is not fit to eat. You may reassess the contents and make a list of needed condiments, basic food group representatives and thirst-quenching beverages. There’s nothing like a clean fridge to make the whole kitchen right again. Just do it!

   As for walking today, it is like April or May, the air, the sun, the temperature. It is like autumn, the leaves, the colorations. Many herons, three or four, one had its back to the nightingale light fixture at the park. They were like unequal bookends. One real, one fake, one tall, one life size, one flesh, one plastic, one grey and black and feathery, one white, with clear lights. I find a quarter. It’s always nice to find a coin or two, heads up. Ahoy, mates.

   Herons flying and fishing in feathers blue and grey. Six fly fishermen on one bend. Runners’ excess layers of clothing hanging in trees until the two make the return trip.  Then, an excess of runners (three groups). Four stems of walnut leaves make a tripartite pattern.