I was looking at the traffic zipping by as I walk over the fenced in bridge. I never really talk about the traffic that circles this quiet place. You can hear cars off in the distance, trucks honk, you can see the movement.
Someone bushwhacked my little spot and cleared out about 10 feet of reeds. I guess it’s a fisherman because fishermen want better access to the lake so they can fish. There are planks where a fishman can stand. I haven’t seen any women fishing so far, but they are welcome to, I’m sure.
Someone in the tower across the thing was flashing the sunlight back at me. I don’t know if it’s actually trying to communicate with me or not, or if it’s just random. The sun is to my back in the morning so I’m looking west.
I bought five wood chips to begin to start out a wood chip platform.
This is a sacred space that I share with others, human and non-human.
I wonder what it was like to dig this lake. One time I asked a park fellow if he thought it was more of a pond than a lake, and he said, “yeah, it’s a city lake.”
The loons sit low in the water unlike the ducks who seem to float a little higher. They dive under the water and seek fish. One takes a while to get out of the water and was running and flapping like the dickens for about 20 to 30 feet before he can get past the water, and catch up to his friends.
The leaves are still just starting to turn. It’s been a fairly warm fall, but the cold weather is finally triumphant.
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