the walk

On Wednesday I took a walk, my usual path at work past the gravel-filled conversation pit where apple picking ladders sometimes stand against the thorn trees; down the stairs flanked by daphne on their east side; past the gym I covet entrance to; over the bridge that spans the part of the creek where nutria and turtles are never seen, and from which I look up at the top of a very shiny building where I once saw a great egret surveying its domain; a switchback through the secret twisting path of the Japanese garden, where the red azaleas and matchy-matchy rhododendrons are out in such full effect that it looks like xmas with hundred of bows tied to evergreen shrubbery; then I'm out on the bark path along the far side of the lake, which is lined with cherry trees on one side-- still in blossom although interspersed with leaves, which tones down the stunning effect of a tree in bloom-- and goslings on the other side. They are attended by two adult geese who are not happy to see me (there are no other humans in sight), and they manage to look as though they are wearing diapers underneath their fat fuzzy yellow bottoms. Bunches of my favorite kind of cherry blossoms drooped face down to the perfect height for a kiss, and after acquainting myself with the flowers, feeling somewhat intimate with the tree, I stood by its side. It was cloudy in layers, ominous but small puffs, and as the strong breeze blew the clouds along, the sun peeked out between stormclouds.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye I could see the ground dancing. The shadows of the new, small leaves dancing in the breeze made the ground look like it was rippling water, a mirror of the rippling surface of the lake in front of me.

It was incredible, a feeling of swimming through the air, floating in the moment.

The wind kept up, though, and more, larger clouds sailed greedily over top of the sun.