Every day is different and this one begins the same way: I go for coffee and I go for a walk. First comes trainspotting. At the train tracks the first letters I see are EMHU freight lettering, followed by the phrase top lift only and all purpose spine car.
On the road: School bus 56.
Today the temperature is warm and the lighting mellow under a mackerel sky.
As for walking: There are two heron in the middle mile. The first looks into the creek with great intensity, as if it were examining a slide through a microscope, displaying the feverish focus of a scientist in a lab after a big discovery. It also looks storklike and I have to look twice to distinguish its stringy breast feathers, white in the light, from the ghostlike shreds of plastic bags that get caught in the branches along the water and sometimes hang there.
The second heron is in full view, standing on top of a good sized rock in the middle of the creek. Sunlight exaggerates the appearance of its bill and throat so that it resembles a pelican. It too, stares fixedly at the dark brown and brackish water, finding its occupation in a search for fish flesh.
My thoughts are occupied with What Must Be Done Today and a book called The Remembered Visit by Edward Gorey.
The path includes broken leaves, a squirrel that hesitates and then dashes in front of a jogger and a blue jay making hawk noises.
On the radio, Colin Cowherd in reviewing questionable decision-making in one Sunday football contest, exclaims: “Why are you talking about previous games? What about this one? Every game has its own feel.”