As I readied myself for this morning’s lumber in the lot of the park, the Soobie belonging to the Two Aging Hippies and their geriatric dog pulled in.
When I’ve seen the couple in the past, the woman—who reminds me of the Marble Rye lady from Seinfeld—has referred to me as “the bird watcher” when we see each other. Then she inevitably asks me if I’ve seen any good birds. I never correct her and tell her that I’m not a bird watcher, but rather a tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping, critter-loving, photo-taking goofball, but it’s sweet. And, she did not disappoint today.
“There’s the bird watcher. Are you seeing more birds with spring here?” she asked as they walked past with their dog; both hippies with unspring-like mittens on, knitted caps pulled down tight, and thick winter coats zipped up to keep the 34˚ air at bay.
Of course, I said yes, and then told her I was lucky enough to get a photo of a bald eagle a couple of weeks ago.
“You did? How wonderful, congratulations!” In a truly genuine way that made me feel so good inside.
I’m no huge social media guy, with just an Instagram page of photos, but it was at that point I realized, yet again, how stupid the idea of social media is, and how different, and how much better a simple interaction with someone real means to me than a “like” on some App run by a billionaire tech bro.
Then, the Aging Hippies headed towards the lake area, and I took off down the main path to the trails, happy to be heading into the woods and blissfully ignorant of whatever hell will surely be brought forth from the fuck faced leaders of the good ol’ U.S. of A on this Tuesday.
THE LUMBER
I finally feel like I am starting to shed my layers of winter misery and had one of my best lumbers in months today, busting out 7.50 miles. Stoked.
Sadly, over the 7.50 miles, I saw little critter action in the woods other than the normal standbys (geese, deer, squirrels). However, I was hearing a lot of activity from the crows, chickadees, bluejays, woodpeckers, and cardinals; they just weren’t very cooperative today. While I would prefer to get some more images, the birds do provide a wonderful soundtrack for a lumber.
13.27 miles of lumbering in two days on trails that are finally void of snow and ice is just what I need right now, and I’m looking forward to more tomorrow.
As I drove home, singing loudly as if I actually knew the words to Helen by Nancy and The Jam Fancys, I passed a gas station; $4.19 a gallon was displayed in large red lights, as if attempting to bring me back into the real world. Lucky for me, I don’t live there anymore, and I’m not going back.
Later.