Thick clouds and cool breezes tussle with the overnight warming that melted away yesterday’s glaze of ice. Temperatures are dropping already and will throughout the day.
Wide, cleared fields throughout the upper level of the park, designated for disc golf and horseback riding, are edged by thick brush and tall trees alive with birds.
I wandered into an little alcove of land, surrounded on three sides by the brush. It’s quiet. The only unnatural sounds are softly muted traffic and an occasional airplane. The rush of wind through the bushes sounds stronger than it feels.
A cardinal, so bright I think he’s a child’s discarded balloon, burst into sudden flight. He flits from tree to tree, daring me to capture him, usually flying off just before I manage to get him into focus.
The lower level river access road is open, but only just. The floods still splash onto the roadway in places, and high water marks are still damp on the trees.
It’s sharply colder here, beyond the protection of the trees. The river churns past, fierce in it’s power.
Rambling ... 