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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/693284
Rated: 13+ · Book · Nature · #1439094
Look around. Let Nature nurture your Soul. I record images I sense and share them here.
#693284 added April 15, 2010 at 9:20pm
Restrictions: None
Walk to the L

2010 April 14th walk up to the L.

Walked up to the L on Mt. Jumbo. Took my time. There were only a couple places where my vertigo kicked in and wanted to take flight. Took notes up and down. Saw a hawk… and the shooting stars are blooming. Said hello to all dogs and their human companions. Back in town met Lydia and petted Yoda, her grey tonkinese.

So many interactions to be had along the narrow path.

The breeze warm and inviting, blowing towards the mountain in an updraft caught by a red-tailed hawk hunting above us. We’re too big to be prey.

I chat with a man in long johns (I know ’cause he told me). We mention how hard it is to know what to wear in the spring. His beard is full and red except for a couple stray grey hairs. The red turns grey fast I advise him. He’s 26. I see him on the way up and further up as he wends his way down.

On the L, I say hello to Miles. He stays close to his human friends. He’s small but willing to jump up onto the concrete ledge that forms the base of the L (restored in 2001 I read on the plaque, in memory of Jon Hamper. The L is a symbol of Loyola Sacred Heart)

Most of the path is dry brown dirt, not as stony as the M trail. I could never have climbed that in these street shoes. S’okay, I wore the wrong shoes.

Where there is a cleft in the hillside filled with shrubs budding out, the path has been redone, rocks moved and underlying soil exposed; it is yellow.

Above the perched meadow the shooting stars are in bloom, their pink-violet flowers just come out. The yellowbells are in full bloom, the last greenish-yellow buds contrasting with the yellow, the gold, the golden-orange of nearly spent blooms. The lupine is ready… it’s blue-purple buds full and expectant for more warmth and sun.

As I come down to Poplar Street, I see Miles perched on his mistress’ stomach, worn-out, content.

Each day is a blessing of one hello and one goodbye.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/693284