The smell of pine

   There are many places I love to visit at my local parks, spending most of my green time in Golden Gate Park, and in particular around the one mile stretch of walkway that is adjacent to Stow Lake. I spend about one hour here (or more) on a nearly daily basis, and although I'm very familiar with most of this area, there are often new sights and smells to surprise me, sometimes because I have not looked very closely before, and sometimes because different times of the year and conditions illicit new sights, smells and sounds.
   The picture below was taken recently, on a stretch of road that curves around the southwest portion of Stow Lake. I began walking on this road (it is actually a car path, whereas the pedestrian path is outside the picture to the left) when more people would arrive to walk, and I sought solace and quiet here. It was after a heavy rain about two months ago that I first noticed the strong, wonderful smell of pine at this location, and the fragrance has returned during the past three weeks or so, despite no rain during that time. It may be that the rain caused the trees to bloom, or the lack of rain and above-average temperatures fooled the trees into thinking that spring had already arrived, but most of the park, including much of the city, has been smelling wonderful.
   I recall seeing about a year ago a blind person being led around the lake by a friend, and as they passed by one of the people that I see here regularly, that person turned to her friend and said, "why would you bring a blind person here?" I remember thinking to myself how stupid that sounded. It reminds me to try to keep my mind, as well as my nostrils, open.

The curve of road in question

A week away

   I recently returned from visiting my mother who now lives in central New York, and while there I was not able to start my day with my usual dawn walks (I did try one day, but it was only 16 degrees fahrenheit, the ground was slick and frozen, and I threw in the towel early). Although I had a very nice time being with my wife, mother, and my sister and her family, I really missed that time that I am accustomed to having for myself in the mornings.

   Today, although tired and a bit jet lagged from the trip, I woke up early and enthusiastically headed head out for my beloved walk. It was dark when I arrived, and at the first hints of daylight, a beautiful display of early morning colors appeared somewhere around the east bay, while wonderful smells greeted me at special points around the path. I  heard loud, unfamiliar sounds at the north west part of the lake, and saw two great blue herons engaged in what seemed like a fight (or at least, an argument), as one doggedly pursued the other around their usual nesting tree. I have seen the herons here many times during my early walks, but never saw them in this way. Squirrels and ducks looked to me for food (they obviously had me confused with someone else), and I noticed that the coots, whose ranks were so populous on my last walk, seemed to have left and continued on in their migrations. It's great to be back home.

Red Sprinkles

   Even though I walk around Stow Lake just about daily (and have been doing so for the past couple of years), I still manage to see and experience things I've seen many times in different ways, something I attribute both to the beauty of the location and my own willingness to allow this to happen. Although I always walk in a counter-clockwise direction, I choose different areas to walk on occasion, and can choose either the footpath or the drive for vehicle traffic, as there are very few cars in the early morning hours when I am there. 

   Because of the time of year, it's quite dark when I arrive, and there are only a few people that walk in the dark as I do, but within ten minutes or so it starts to become a bit lighter, and more people start to arrive. As the path becomes visible, I often choose to walk around the perimeter where the cars drive, as I like the solitude there, finding it easier to let my mind wander when there are not people around. As I step off the walking path onto the area where the car path widens, there are a variety of trees, I hear the faint hum of traffic of cars on busy Crossover Drive, and I encounter this deep green plant with a red that just sprinkles the green with color, a color which becomes more beautiful, rich and complex the nearer I get. People can be that way too for me on occasion, but it seems that I often take a path which obscures this view.

Corner Set

   During my daily three mile, three lap stroll around Stow Lake, I pass this northeastern section of the walking path, looking right as I walk counter-clockwise nearing the boathouse. In a picture it doesn't really look like much (and I've taken a few to try to capture how I feel when I see it), but as I near it, it begins to look like a theater set, with the sun-drenched trees acting as the backdrop, while the bright green in the foreground functions as a thin cutout at the lip of the stage. I should say that I don't generally care much for the theatrical, but there is something about the visual depth in this part of the park that I am drawn to. I feel like there is ample room for me to exist in that accentuated, seemingly artificial space, and the space there feels warm and peaceful. 

   I have tried, probably in vain, to describe the sensation that I feel when I pass this part of the park, but I think that I actually find it indescribable, and that sublime quality is wonderful to me.

Claws up!

   Beginning one month or so ago, I started seeing crayfish on or near the walking path at Stow Lake as I walked there in the early morning hours. About two weeks later, I would see them near daily, usually with their claws out in front of them till I would come near them, at which point they would raise their claws in defense, or to scare me, neither of which I found necessary. 

   Once, when I had finished my walk and was driving to work, I saw something small in the middle of the road at the last moment, and swerved to avoid it. I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw a crayfish, brick red, with its' claws up to defend itself from my car. I thought that one of the most beautiful gestures I have witnessed in recent memory. 

North Lake roosters

   My favorite place to walk in Golden Gate Park has been up to this point Stow Lake; in the early morning it is quiet, smells wonderful, and it is bathed in the light of dawn. Unfortunately, it doesn't have any roosters. As far as I know, the only place where these animals live in the park is the North Lake, and this is also one of my park spots. Obviously, they must have been introduced there by some person for some reason and seem out of place in this environment, they do appear to have adjusted, and at least one park visitor seems to feed them as I often see grain on a nearby rock when I go to see them. Besides the two roosters that I see at this part of the lake, there are many large raccoons, squirrels, and it is also popular with red-winged blackbirds, especially just before dark. 

   There is a small farm at my job for the residents of the nursing facility to visit, and it is here that I have come to appreciate roosters, chickens and their behavior. They seem quite inquisitive, playful, and enjoy each other's company, from what I've seen. Maybe I visit them to remind me of the things that are important to me, too.

Cortita

   On my daily walks around Stow Lake in Golden Gate Park, there are many wonderful things to see, hear, smell and touch, generally in that order of importance to me. I generally walk the same loop, around the lake and Strawberry Hill at around the same time daily (early morning), and often see a lot of the same people there, most of whom I recognize. Wildlife, too, are regulars, and of all the squirrels that I see daily, there is perhaps only one that has been easy to recognize, and I have named this squirrel, "Cortita". Also referred to by a fellow walker there as "Shorty", the stub of a tail is what makes this creature memorable, and for me makes it easier to empathize with. I used to call this unique resident of the park Cortito (a slang for short in spanish), but figured out later that it must be female, as I saw it gathering what appeared to be material for a nest one day, and read that this is generally the job for the female western gray squirrel. The uniqueness of Cortita (note the "a" ending connoting female in the spanish language) has allowed me to recognize when I do and do not see her on my walks, and this has given me the mental space to create a kind of imagined life for her in my head. When there have been periods of time that I don't see her, I've wondered where she was and if she was alright, and then when I'd finally see her, I would be very happy, and I found myself kind of rooting for her survival, and perhaps for her to even flourish in her short life. 

   It's been a few weeks now since I've seen Cortita, and I even asked the walker that calls her Shorty if she'd seen her, but she said that she hadn't. I imagine that Cortita is no longer alive, and I miss seeing her.