Walking Diary with Buddha Tree

I've walked and bicycled past this tree often. The group of three trees each has a knot or a wound or a branch-ectomy that pained me to see until I noticed the smiling Buddha face in the northward facing tree. Its sibling trees have the knots facing south. The north face Buddha is the only one smiling. Whether I walk or bike north:south or south:north I always smile at this tree, and remember that smiles are contagious, and no matter what life tosses into existence, it's good to be alive.

Bicycle Journal with Walking Diary

Yesterday I biked to the library in the golden, sweet morning. I'm getting braver on the road, so I toughed it out through the deeper dirt and rocks on the roadside. Thought about wearing shorts, but a tumble would be more abrading, so jeans rolled up sufficed. As I was putting my bicycle away, I said hello to the woman we see walking, wool hat on in any weather, and "Hello Kitty" pink purse swinging. Her name is Julie and she was hosting a card night at her house and went to the store for spoons. Today I walked, checked on my feathered friends in the swamp, and no friends, no swamp. It's dry. Walking on the path ahead of me were four boys, cutting school? At a distance I can tell boys from girls. Boys have the hunched-over, leg flung to the side walk, like a lazy tango step. Girls walk upright and their legs move straight forward. In the distance I could see headlights. A truck on the bike path? It was a South Lyon Public Works truck, picking up garbage in the cans on the path. Stopped at the grocery store for a bagel and there were none. I asked the bakery woman if there were any hiding in the back, and she baked me one fresh. First time I've had a hot bagel, and I ate it walking home. We'll get rain today, and the last of the cottonwood leaves will be down, joining their summer companions once more, and soon together will be transformed to mulch for the next generation under the snow.

Bicycle Journal with Heron

Lovely day for a bicycle ride to the library. Perfect football weather for MSU:UofM at The Big House. Glad I wasn't bicycling near Ann Arbor, and grateful for the day and the luxury of enough. As I was almost home, at the pond next door, I surprised a Great Blue Heron, and it surprised me. We ogled one another, but nobody flew away. I thanked it for sharing the space with me.

Bicycle Journal with Treehuggers

Brought my camera on this sparkling day bicycle ride, planning to stop for batteries at the drugstore. I crossed the busy street one way, and pushed the walk signal button for the next cross. Walk signaled, I stepped out and was halfway across when I caught a car making a left turn in my direction. She was braking/forward/braking/forward right on my back wheel. I gave her a big frown, and turned away. She drove into the parking lot, pulled in front of me, and rolled down the passenger window. "You were in the crosswalk when it was a no walk signal," she growled, holding up her hand, palm out, as though I might not recognize a don't walk sign. "I left on the walk signal," I started to say. She interrupted, "Well, you were still walking when it said don't walk." Flabbergasted, and pissed, I said, "Look, just watch out for bicyclers, okay?" "YOU, TOO!" she yelled, and sped away. So, being in such a big hurry she needed to nudge me out of her way with her car, she then wasted more time explaining to me how thoughtless she was. The ride improved immediately, thanks to the gorgeous sky, the applauding cottonwoods, brilliant asters, sumac, the beautiful Huron Valley Rail Trail, and the fragrant air of Michigan in autumn. I took a picture of my favorite treehuggers: trees that stood beside each other season after season and then came down together, (or were shoved by a frustrated motorist) and there they rest, becoming one with the swamp.

Cats, Herons, Egrets, Chickens

A Great Blue Heron has joined the egrets at the rapidly shrinking pond. The heron caught supper: I was too far away to see clearly what was on the menu. It may have been a frog. I noted the heron, egrets, ducks share the diminishing habitat, and none fought the heron for the meal. As I walked up the hill toward the football field, in the berm of Queen Anne's Lace, milkweed, and aster, a cat leaped high in the air. For joy or for prey, I don't know, but once he saw me, he crouched below the foliage, still, and I saw no more cat. On a grassed rise along the walk path, far ahead, I saw what looked like two giant pigeons pecking at the grass. Huge iridescent birds. Closer, it was a hen and a rooster, fantastically feathered, dining busily as I walked past. Wild chickens? Or escapees on a culinary adventure? I did not have to spend the day collecting my dinner, as my wild friends had, or risk being dinner myself. As the sun said good night to the horizon, I hoped we'd all sleep well.

Bicycle Journals - Great Egrets

Great Egrets (Ardeidae), Casmerodus albus. Finally identified by searching white wading bird + yellow bill + black legs. Neither crane nor heron, as I've misidentified these beauties before. Flies with neck in "S" curve, like the heron. Lucky me to catch one in flight! The others quickly followed. I bicycled to my next favorite green swamp (with a wooden walkway over) and arrived just as 6 hot air balloons were moving in from the right, and one of the flying Great Egrets was winging from the left. More luck! I dropped my bike, got out the camera, tiptoed toward the confluence. Balloons and birds coming into frame - I was shivering with excitement. The closest balloon belched, a kajillion dogs started barking - the egret took off. Bye-bye National Geographic prize winning photograph. Next time!

Bicycle Journals

Riding my underutilized bike to rest my overutilized knee. I like having choices. I know that aging limits physical options so I'm going to switch hit as much as I can. Noticed last week the fast food joint detritus outnumbers the beer cans and cigarettes on the roadside. Could be the route was along the middle school path, and kids can't go home with the remains of a drink they weren't supposed to have. One day archeologists will consider the soda straw shoved through the plastic carry-out lid a religious icon of significance and power.