This morning, on my walk by the river, the water was calm. A woodpecker way up high was tapping out a message, spring green was up and down and all around, I heard a train whistle, and felt the coolness of the air on my skin.
There were red bud trees, geese flying low over the river, and quiet birdwatchers with binoculars at the ready.
Concentric rings spread out from the geese as they dipped their heads into the water, searching for a bite. A large turkey buzzard soared on a current overhead.
Three caps from bottles of screw-top wine were left on a bench where the friends who drank them last night watched the sun set as they listened to the birds from this very location.
The great blue heron has not returned to the pond, but its resting spot awaits.
A thoughtful woman in her gray hoodie sat, sketchbook open, contemplating her approach to the bridge and the sunrise in her drawing.
These were the things I saw at 8:07 on the Saturday before Easter at the church of the glassy river where nature was adorned in all its magnificent finery.
After all this, I sat at the Sunflower Cafe/Bike Shop on Massachusetts and sipped on a blueberry latte (sounds weird but it was perfect) and considered all I had seen. Each thing pressed onto a page in my mind that can be referred to at will when a big dose of endorphins is needed.
There’s something about the sound of a train whistle.
Posted by: Chris Oliveira | 03/31/2024 at 08:28 AM
Yes to the train whistle comment Chris!
Posted by: carol | 03/31/2024 at 11:13 AM