Woven into our little suburbia are a number of walking/biking paths. Recreational space for nearby residents, these ribbons of pavement also connect areas that otherwise require driving. Many of them are an outgrowth of housing development, planned green space that also uses land difficult to build on.
Just steps from our back door is one such path. To the east it skirts a small drainage pond where geese raise families and children explore along the fringes. We occasionally see a great blue heron, a kingfisher, or another "exotic" bird at the pond. The path is being extended to the west and will meet up with another trail soon, giving us more options for our frequent walks.
Though we usually walk in our own neighborhood, occasionally we go farther for variety. Monday we tried a path a couple miles away, also running along a pond. Jim had walked this path before but not for some years. I'd never been there.
We drove to a parking lot south of the pond and left the car there, crossing the street to begin our journey. The first half mile was as expected, brilliant sunshine embellishing the water with sequins.
People fish this small pond, and a trash receptacle was installed on a post, specifically for fishing line. This small touch helps keep birds from being injured by the synthetic lines. Besides the fishing line receptacle, bird houses sat stationed on posts. A swallow stood guard over one, dive-bombing Jim for being too close when he stopped to take a picture.
Toward the north end of the pond, cattails grew thick. Red-winged blackbirds, epaulets shining in the sun, reminded me of British officers' uniforms in costume dramas.
We weren't sure if the path went around to the other side; it had not the last time Jim was there. As we rounded the bend, we saw the pavement continue. But off to the right, just off the path, there was a sign for an unpaved trail that continued north.
Curious, we continued, immediately heading down a short hill through wet grass.
On our right a wire fence sported "No Trespassing" signs and an edge of barbed wire. Almost as unwelcoming was a small locust with long needles, longer than my fingers.
But just farther wild roses bloomed, beckoning and welcoming as any open door. Thousands of creamy blossoms, each just over an inch across, had little scent.
Trees grew up on either side, sparse at first and then more densely. As we moved into the woods, moving out of the light and into shadow, we saw twists and braids of wood, thick as my arm.
Overhead, the oaks soared. Some of the old trees spanned four feet in diameter, thrusting scores of feet into the air. With a dense canopy overhead and thick cover all around us, an air of privacy and isolation set in, making us feel alone. Though invisible, houses were just yards away.
The bird song grew more noticeable, with wrens and cardinals, blue jays and titmice, and my favorite catbirds adding to the music. Pounding overhead, multiple woodpeckers took our attention up. Directly above us a red-headed woodpecker rested, before attending to his breakfast again.
Woven and knotted all around us were trees, vines, and small plants. The bright green shoots twisted into thicker ropes, reaching into the path. Someone with a vivid imagination might feel as if they were in danger of being grabbed, pulled back into the brush.
Overhead more tangles appeared, looping and lacing. One tremendous oak had a long lower limb, perhaps 30 feet in length, enveloped by a drape of lacy vines.
Below were other woven delights. This substantial webbing glistened in a shaft of sunlight,
and this velvet moss on a tree trunk was not as soft as it appeared.
Were all these wonders woven from this?
Or this?
Though the path was a surprise to us, its rich texture, giant oaks, and twisting limbs will lure us back again.
Thanks to Jim in IA for taking photos and for being my walking partner (among other things!)
I will be out mid-day for a while but will respond when I get back. Thanks for stopping by. Let us know how things are going in your neck of the woods.