Four geese fly over the red covered bridge this morning – it is a four day and the 13th. More than a handful of people on the trail, maybe two. The sky is made of cotton.
A heron makes noise that seems to say “Get Out!” Three pairs of mallards flush from the creek bank near the place where I turn around. Then the heron makes itself more visible than audible.
The walk seems enervating rather than energizing. It feels like snow.