We were truly at sea level this morning, walking by the marina where I walked for 20 years. It was very exciting, because there were rumbles of thunder at the beginning and end of the hour’s walk. Despite the threat, we were not rained on.
It was such a disappointment that we missed Tom. Dennis told us he was looking for us, but we missed him by a hair. We caught up on Dennis’ news, and Dave pulled in. I loved seeing them again, my anchors by the water. They, Nancy, and Tom were the pleasures of my morning for about five years. Now Nancy and I have moved away. I asked John to touch the railing for Nancy. He was happy to do that for her, but his face reflected his I-don’t-like-my-picture-taken attitude. Be understanding, because that is a common pose for everyone who ever lived with me.
Things in the village were mostly the same. One house was sold, and another is on the market. Extensive landscaping was in progress at another house, marked by raw earth and newly exposed plants. If you return often enough, you’d keep up with the changes.
I did notice one thing I would never have paid attention to before. Near the millpond were two shoots just encroaching on the sidewalk. Something about the vine made me stop. Golly! It was wisteria! I loved the wisteria along there on both sides of the road, but that was before I was responsible for curbing it. Knowing from my constant battle in NC, the wine can be vicious. I wouldn’t be surprised if it grew under the roadway. I stepped away quickly before the shoots could entangle my ankles.
Avalon Park was the same except for a new stone wall just across from the gristmill. That will be handy for tourists. I might have tried it out, but John was waiting for me. We went to the end of my old route before I suggested he go at his 3 mph rate back to the car where he could listen to his beloved NY radio stations. He knows his rate because of cardiac rehab. I suspect I walk at 2 mph, since I walk about two miles in an hour.
I stopped at the millstream to say hello to a black crowned night heron standing on one leg, perhaps one I used to greet all the time. There is a stick over the rock on the left that enters the water just above the bird’s head. It’s obvious I could use lessons from photography 101.