The sun slanted golden through the Douglas firs this morning, burnishing some brown fallen leaves. A trail of fat, white fungi led the way into the park and the rough pathway was littered with the fallen winged seeds of the maples.
One year, I remember, the maples had such a huge crop of seeds that the following spring thousands of them sprouted into a miniature forest of one-inch-high seedlings. Tiny soldiers, they were, standing straight in an army of a staunch and virile new generation. Most were dead by summer, of course, just another of nature’s profligate experiments.
But today the dew was heavy as I reached the grassy field where the young couple with the big goldendoodle and the tiny black poodle were exercising their dogs. Towels lay by the gate to de-dew the dogs before they set off for home.
A few late flowering dandelions brighten the roadside as the sun rises higher and the dya swells to its warmth. Farmers head to market with their corn and beets and carrots. There will be plenty of buyers today, relaxed in the wrm sunshine…