Who takes a Sharpie to the park to write commemorations on objects? An anniversary has been noted, 8-30-07, above the names Omar and Nina joined by an “N.”
Three herons work at the creek in the second mile. One walks in water with wedding-day grace. Its body looks like a flared skirt and it glides with a pause between steps like the bride with her train. A runner of green algae covers part of the creek. The bird is next to this green carpet.
The second heron is in time out, roosting on a fallen branch, about five feet over the surface of the creek. The third one stands on a rock near two men fishing on a curve.
The heron bride has moved to the near side of the creek when I make the return. It moves with delicate and determined actions while it fishes, drinks and walks about, shielded by a willow tree.
Today is Friday the 13th. Victor, a man with a Maine tee-shirt and I all wear purple tops.
All of these things pale next to the Pea in Lung story. Bird in Creek, Boy Gets Girl, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, a legume in the Bronchials.