

Thick, soft, cornmeal mush of snow
Gliding ice pack remnants,
Bird song,
Barely hushed,
By muffled traffic hum
exploring my world, one park at a time


Thick, soft, cornmeal mush of snow
Gliding ice pack remnants,
Bird song,
Barely hushed,
By muffled traffic hum




Springfield, Missouri is laced by an interconnected web of trails and bike lanes. At least partially designed to promote safe routes for children to walk or bike to school, there’s a beautiful one behind the middle school near my mother’s house.
It runs alongside a creek, that on this trip, proved to be actually under the creek.
So my morning walks turned into Highway 60 strolls.




Not quite what I was going for, but it’s fairly low traffic on the far west end of town, with wide safe sidewalks and a signaled crosswalk at the school.
Interspersed with neighborhoods, the school, and a business or two, are the prairie grasses and wildflowers that line the road and stretch out across the as yet unconquered fields.






A riot of splendid defiance of order firmly imposed.

Sunshine trails on a quiet Monday. I’m not sure how long the park has been open again. We haven’t been here since February and the sudden uprooting of the world.
I’m used throngs of friendly hikers here on a beautiful summer morning, but today the parking lot is nearly empty. I’m not sure if it’s only because it’s Monday, or if most people don’t know it’s reopened.
The campground is still closed, so that might explain it too.





We pass a handful of people, with friendly waves and suitable distance.
Everyone is just happy to be outside and moving. The trails is so still that the only sound is the call of birds high in the treetops.
High on the ridge and deep in the woods, I can’t even make out the muffled roar of traffic on the highway below.






It feels like a time apart
In the trees and flowers and rustic CCC structures
Until we pass this tree on the way back down to get lunch,
And all I can think is …
Grooot!

I probably have ten or more pictures of this spot. Spring, and Summer, and Fall, riding out the five or so miles from St Charles to rest on the bench, eat a quick snack, soak in the peaceful flow of the river.

There’s not a lot of traffic this way.
Even on the first gorgeous days of spring, most riders are heading west and while walkers and joggers tend to stay closer to town.
Most

Often, the trail is closed for the next mile or two
Spring floods of thick Missouri River mud
Bury the path in nearly impassable goo
It’s clear today, though. The river flows gently well below the mud-washed elevation sign and coaxes me on through alternating stretches of woods and sun baked fields, bursting with endless wildflowers.








A sudden washout just before Machens, and a trio of downed limbs I’d hauled my bike over near Black Walnut, encouraged me to experiment with riding back partially along the road.
Black Walnut road parallels the trail with multiple easy access points. It was a smooth easy ride with little traffic aside from a couple other bike riders, until I slid back onto the trail and into St Charles.

The meteorologist promised a clear pleasant morning, with storms moving in through the late afternoon. So we set out early, somewhat suspiciously eyeing the thick clouds overhead.
The meteorologist needs a window. I don’t care what the radar shows, this most definitely qualifies as rain.

I’ll accept pleasant though.
The trail is damp, and occasionally thickly muddy, but never impassible
The rain subsides to gentle drizzles and cool the muggy air.



The dense old-growth Virginia May trail is suggested for bird watching. There were none in sight today, but dozens sang and called from the thick tree tops as we walked.





The skies cleared as we left the trail
Hikers and picnicker drifted in




And the wildlife probably wished we all go

Sunshine burst between threatening rains

Afternoon escape to bird song, flowers, and the splash of the river







Summery
Sunny
Bordering hot

Swampy spillways,
border the highway
The endless drone of frogs
Nearly overpowering the highway roar

Quietly patient
She poses at the edge of the trail
Then floats in an instant off into the air




This is so awesome!
It’s been possible for a few years now to cross the river on this trail.
It was also mildly terrrifying
Not that it ever stopped me, but it was just a rough shoulder completely open to the highway.

As it turns out,
Stopping to write on the bridge is still mildly terrifying
But I love the river breeze and thunder of the traffic from behind the thick new barriers






I saw a meme today, something along the lines of …
If anybody’s trying to figure it out, it’s Tuesday
Tuesday!

Two days off of spring break
Two days of learning to teach online
Two days that felt like a week
By yesterday afternoon
For just one hour – no computer, no news, no terrifying numbers

Pooled reflections Teem with life Slipping into shadows unseen





Sunlight and clouds drift through a lazy waltz
Birds flit and sing and tease from the brush.
And graciously pause for my camera.

Sunshine, warm breezes, and fast running river; it almost feels like summer today.

The park is packed, but everyone is reasonable here.
Walkers and bikers exchange friendly waves from 6 feet away and step to the side to allow each other to safely pass.




Cross country connector trail morphs into a wetlands safari. It feels like immersion in old adventure film, as frogs murmur in constant vibrato from the marshy edges of the trail.






These people are ridiculous. I get it, I really do. It’s the first truly spring like day of the year, with bright sunshine and soft warm breezes. I want to be out as much as anyone, and it’s a huge, beautiful city park, with plenty of room for social distancing.

They are not social distancing.
Some are of course, maybe even most,
but there are groups tossing footballs, couples holding hands, gatherings of picnickers on blankets and crowded into pavilions.

I’m all for a walk on this gorgeous day.
Managed right, it’s even well within safety guidelines.

Wander a quiet tree lined trail.




Bask in the scents of the blossoming flowers and trees.

Rest in the shade on a rustic bench and listen to the chorus of birds.

But please,
for the sake of yourself,
and us all …
Keep a six foot distance.