Occasionally someone asks, “Picture your favorite place.” Although I love the quiet of the beach and the power of the sea, our little parklands comes to mind pretty quickly. We made the three mile walk today, through the small patches of mud and puddles, watching the pond ripple and the swans dive for lunch.
The path wanders along the edge of the pond up a little hill and down a gentle incline.
Once the weather warms, I drag my kayak through the grass and paddle down the length of the pond. Chick a dees call out along the way, and the ducks grumble as I move through the weeds.
For now, though, we walk the trail.
The hawk settles in the pine branches, her outline bulky against the clouds.
Off the track the drumming woodpecker sounds through the woods. I catch her winging through the trees, her red head catches the sunlight for just a flash.