The sky is a deep blue and partly filled with fluffy white clouds, which is one of my favorite kinds of sky. The violets have vanished and the profusion of dandelions has waned, but the river banks are awash with pink and white phlox, as well as honeysuckle.
The water is still pouring over the trail between the lake and the river. It’s not deep enough for the current to be a problem so I was tempted to take off my shoes and wade through to reach the other side. My brain looked at the muddy water suspiciously and supplied words like ‘leech,’ ‘parasites,’ and ‘fecal matter,’ and the temptation wilted away.
There is, after all, a lot of fecal matter in the park thanks to the geese. They seem determined to make sure they’ve pooped on every square foot of the park by the time spring is done.
Speaking of geese – I was the one feeling aggressive today, so every time I was confronted with a gaggle of geese on or near the trail, I strode through with my shoulders squared, prepared to do battle should it come to it. Apparently they sensed my lack of fear because they got out of my way peacefully and quietly. I had grudging respect for the one goose that got out of my way at the slowest speed needed to avoid a collision. I recognize a fellow curmudgeon when I see one.
The geese were still the ultimate victors today, though, as I stepped squarely into a pile of fresh, green goose poop while passing through their ranks.
I think if I were going to haunt someone with intent to torment, I’d come back as a flock of Canadian geese.