Where we walk on water
Locally, on the first day of April, the rules about who is welcomed change. In particular, the National Park gets all up in their hair about where my dog can walk. And so, this afternoon, we ran out the calendar by heading over to Greenwich. That section of our parkland that I rarely visit during the high season.
The world in the woods is wet. A lot of snow under branches. A lot of slush in the water. Mud underfoot. Little matter. We went for a wander, down to that floating pathway that I’d only seen in slick photos. Like this one:
The dog was very optimistic about the whole afternoon, particularly due to other beasts on leashes ahead and behind us. Surely we’d arrange some play time (no, we wouldn’t). And as we made our way along, barely centimeters above the water, I realized that this might be a very different setting, come summer. No more surprising a brace of mallards, just to our left. No more wondering what animal had just disappeared into the weeds. No more dogs. Remember: come tomorrow, the rules change for the summer.
I did enjoy the interpretive signs, which pointed out the families from “the olden days” and the natural history of the area that were part of the push to have it all be “parked”. I didn’t go as far as the famous dunes; must save something for when we’re guiding tourists.
And with that, a day in the fresh air, done. At home the generator was running, without apparent cause, which will mean calling the service guy tomorrow, unless everything resets by morning.
