Yesterday I cut short my walk, partly because the mud made my chosen route along the west side of the lake unpassable, but also because I haven’t done much exercise since I had the little adventure with the mariachi tuba people, and I wasn’t sure if I was in condition for it. I needn’t have worried. I woke up without the fatigue that says you’ve had the kind of workout you need to rest from and proceeded to put on real shoes for real walking.
Not that the sandals I was wearing yesterday aren’t good. They’re Tevas, and even if they don’t look all that different from dollar store flip flops, they have amazing support. The first time I wore them I was so excited I walked 6 miles in them without breaking them in first. They’re that good. It’s just that yesterday I was dressed for stopping at the office, and today I wanted to dress for the possibility of mud, tree branches, and things that will scratch your feet if they’re not covered.
Part of my walking routine is to vary my routine. Yesterday I walked to the lake approaching from the south, today I would approach from the west. My destination: the defunct Nike missile base on the north side of the lake.
From quite a distance I could hear the sounds of little league–after all, it’s Saturday. Ah, how I remember my brother’s little league games…but wait, these are girls. Yes, I remember a famous lawsuit that established equality for girls’ sports–a lawsuit that happened the year I graduated–too late to do me any good. These girls aren’t learning embroidery like I did–they are active. Their fathers are very much in evidence, too, refereeing, taking photos. I remember when my father used to take my brother to the ballpark to practice throwing balls. Did I ever learn how to throw a ball? I must have. How?
At one time I was bitter, but now, well, I spent some time watching this group, I admit, but my life has had its own twists, with sports, and in my relationship with my father. It is what it is and I savor what I have had.
then the Ford plant….
and some Fords waiting for new owners….
I love trains–“Indiana Harbor”.
The quarry..seems to be some sort of gravel pit…
and the cottonwood trees in the distance hint at the swampy ground below.
How can you tell it’s a cottonwood tree from so far away? Easy. The sound of the leaves in the wind. Here’s 40 seconds of the sound of one cottonwood tree in the wind:
You can also be pretty sure that when you see a cottonwood tree, there is a source of water nearby.
This has gotten to be pretty long post and we’re not even to the lake yet. Did I mention the destination was the lake? Here’s a quick picture of the lake yesterday when the sun was out:
and one taken today after the thundershowers:
But it’s not the destination, it’s the journey.