The past several years I have not been able to do so much of it. Today, fairly recovered from a sinus infection, I went. I had finished a visit to the library and remembered there was a trail there. It was the beginning of twilight, just an hour or so of light left.
I managed about a mile of trail. There were some signs of spring. The invasive honeysuckle already beginning to sculpt its way up saplings. Leaves emerging from brambles impatient to grow their thorns and berries. Here and there -- the color purple -- courtesy of the red bud tree. Of creatures I saw a few robins, a cardinal and one wary calico who crept off the path and eyed me suspiciously as I passed.
Then I arrived at the tunnel under the four-lane road.
I like to look at the graffiti here. There isn't much opportunity in this neck of the woods. I learned another moniker for the current leader of the free world: Daddy Trump.
More inside, where the local officials have tried to put a damper on the festivities by painting the walls black.
The faint orange lines spell Trump again. One can only hope, or maybe not in this case.
If I was still a teen, this might also be a safe place. Now, not so much.
The stream sounds lovely.
I walked until I saw that the sun was about to set:
Of course it was more striking a minute before I took the picture. I decided to return along the path. The birds had already gone quiet. The air was chilly and damp. A few brave frogs sang a soprano tune. As long as the amphibians are with us, I think we'll be okay.