On the other side of the dam, across from the glassy river area, there's a whole different feel to the river. The water tumbles instead of lying quietly.
Along the trail the sun comes up over the corn, you can hear the staccato tapping of woodpeckers in the cottonwoods, and the path unspools in front of you.
There are small and extra small horses, more corn, and egg-shaped iron things painted the color of robins eggs that may or may not have something to do with the dam?
I saw a sign for an open house, caught a glimpse of what looked like a waterfall across the way, and appreciated a variety of yellow flowers with tall hats along the path.
I did not take a photo of the man I passed wearing a Moody Blues t-shirt. I did tell him I hadn't thought about that group in years, to which he replied "I love those guys". I said "Nights in White Satin" and then we gave each other a thumbs up and went our separate ways.
In case you now need to hear the Moody Blues, for your convenience, there is this.
That's a lovely essay on a walk.
The Moody Blues! I'd nearly forgotten them, the sound (or one of them) of the 60s.
Posted by: Chrissy | 07/01/2020 at 03:13 PM