Another windy day. I had to hold onto my cap several times so it wouldn’t fly off. Running east on the lake street bridge, I put my hood so my cap wouldn’t fall off. Running west over the ford bridge, I took the cap off and held it in my hands. The wind made it difficult, more draining. Is that why my legs feel so sore?
- ridges and white caps in the blue water, from the wind
- kids at the church daycare, at the far end of the fenced-in playground. Running by I could hear their tiny, sweet voices plotting something
- more filled benches than usual along the route, including one with a person sitting and a stroller behind it
- in the neighborhood: knocks on the roof — not a woodpecker, but roofers … or was it a woodpecker?
- running straight into the wind, wondering if would push me up against the railing (not quite)
- my shadow down in the ravine near shadow falls — lucky shadow, sheltered from the wind
- everywhere hazy — it might have been my vision, but I think it was dust stirred up by the wind. Yuck!
- running north, at the end, feeling the wind pushing me, but not in a helpful way
- the wind didn’t rush or roar, it just pushed and pulled
- a walker, walking in the middle of the path, blasting talk radio
I stopped on the double bridge to take a picture of the ravine and to put in my headphones:
today’s view out my window
It’s snowing leaves. Mostly they are drifting down slowly, one after the other. Sometimes at a distance, occasionally almost on my window screen. My neighbor’s yard is covered with them, a dead leaf carpet. Yesterday, as Scott and I cleared out our leaves we could see that the neighbor’s tree was still full of leaves. I wondered what would happen when the wind came back. Today I found out.
Also, encountered this interesting (and unsettling) article about the effects of climate crisis on Japanese poets who write haikus: Japan’s haiku poets lost for words as climate crisis disrupts seasons