ford bridge + turkey hollow
A fine fall morning. For most of the run, I didn’t listen to anything — not sure I remember any sounds from the gorge. For the last mile, I put in headphones and listened to Taylor Swift’s 1989. My knees ache a little, not like they’re injured, just sore from use. Could it partly be because of slightly cooler weather?
10 Things I Noticed
- 2 bikers on the road near the start of my run — 1 adult, 1 kid. My guess: a kid biking to Dowling Elementary School with his dad
- running above the oak savanna, a green glow as the sun streamed through the leaves of the trees lining the trail
- the ravine near the double bridge looked extra leafy and green
- the river, viewed from the ford bridge on the downtown side, was a beautiful blue and empty
- the sidewalk at the end of the bridge was under construction. Right now, it’s all dirt
- a few kids skating at the new skate park on the land that was the site of the ford plant
- the river, viewed from the ford bridge on the locks and dam no. 1 side, was still and high? — I couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like it had partly flooded the small island in the middle
- the locks and dam no. 1 is closed — carp invasion, I think. I didn’t see/hear the gushing water down the conrete apron
- no turkeys in turkey hollow
- no roller skiers or loud birds or darting squirrels or rowers or fat tires
a new regular
For a few months, I’ve noticed an older white man with white hair and a white beard (at least, I think he has a beard), using a walker when I run south on the river road. Sometimes he’s using the walker to help him walk pretty swiftly along the trail, and sometimes he’s using it as a chair. Today, we was sitting. We greeted each other as I ran by. He’s a friendly guy. It makes me happy to see him out there, continuing to walk with a walker, enjoying the beautiful trail. I think I’ll call him Mr. Walker.
I tried to think about my latest poem, but I got too distracted, I guess. No new words or ideas.
Here’s another poem from Tanis Rideout’s Arguments with the Lake. O, her last verse!
excerpt from Shirley As Drowned Ophelia/ Tanis Rideout
Though in the Lake are visions — submerged forests
of blossoming myriophyllum. I was cuaght
half-remembered in early morning darkness and a web of pondweed
that withered all when fathers died.
O, the Lake. The only thing that kept me afloat
was what I thought was on the other side.