Friday, October 20, 2006

Working Hard

naturalbridges 2, originally uploaded by camille94019.

After sleeping in late and agonizing about what to do with this excellent Fall friday, I decided to spend the day at the Lagoon. I felt like a kid playing hooky, as I packed a little mac and cheese, some apples, a book to read, two box cameras (one with black and white and the other with color), the blue canteen, hot water for tea, an enamel mug, a bag of peppermint tea, a set of silverware, a sketchbook, pens, a journal, the mao hat, the black denim jacket and the beach sarong. It didn't quite fit in my little backpack, so I appended the rest of the junk in a clanging mess on the back. I got on my bike and pedaled down the river, past the boardwalk (after spending some time at the wharf wishing I could buy fish) and deep into the western wastes.

The Lagoon turned out to be an excellent place to spend the day. I napped on the beach, listening to the parents yell at their children, to the gulls and pelicans screaming and to the breaking waves (I tried unsuccessfully to send El Cab a voicemail of the sound of the crashing swells). I brought Annie Dillard's A pilgrim at Tinker Creek, which was the perfect read for a day spent chasing herons, egrets, bird watchers and tramping through the swamp.

The turtles didn't like me. Every time I saw one, it dove into the murky water. I'd stare at the surface for a while, waiting for it to show itself again, but it was as if they disappeared into the an abyss, as if my gaze was so powerful it could dematerialize them in a splash of muddy water.

The giant Heron let me get within about ten feet of her before she took to the air with a couple disgruntled "clucks." I even did my best imitation of a suburbanite wildlife stalk. I was hoping she'd mistake me for a tree, but I don't think she was that dumb.

The humans mostly ignored me unless I directed comments right at them.

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I blog about life and soup, but mostly soup.