On my island walk this morning, my progress was arrested almost immediately by a passing train, which effectively cut me off from the southern half of the island. There is, of course, a way around--or rather, over--the train, by way of a small 'driving' bridge that bisects the center of the island, but this would have entailed covering extra distance, would have knocked me off my usual island perimeter course, and I was in no way desperate to speed my progress. Therefore, I stood and waited out the train, which as it turned out, was a long one. In between the cars, I could see someone else waiting to cross, a dog walker. He waited on his side, and I on mine, until finally the last car passed and we each crossed the tracks, going in our respective directions. "Long son of a bitch," laughed my compatriot in passing, to which I responded with a brief laugh and a nod. Due to the extreme cold, which finally arrived in Minneapolis this morning (had it come down on the train?), his face was completely obscured by scarf, hat and sunglasses, so that I am unlikely to know him if I see him again without his winter accoutrements.
I continued on my way, passing the Grove Street Flats, the Grain Belt Beer sign, De La Salle High School, and crossing underneath the Hennepin Bridge, where again I took note of the message scrawled on the pavement: FREE BRADLEY MANNING. Today, however, having yesterday gone home and consulted the Googlemeister, I was equipped with an understanding of who this Manning fellow was and why someone might wish him freed. For those who do not yet know (and this is old news indeed), see the following link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bradley_Manning
Upon reaching the southern tip of the island, I was pleased to see the silver Christmas ball still hanging on the tree, where I had placed it the day before. The sun was shining and the view to the south was a lovely one, so t
hat I couldn't resist snapping a picture. Yes, that is me in my red winter jacket reflected in the shining ball ... cool, huh? Not bad for a lousy photographer such as me. I continued my walk, up the northern side of the island. This leg of my promenade was far less agreeable, given the bitter wind that was no longer at my back but now blowing in my face. I pulled my scarf up higher, over my nose, and soldiered on. By the time I'd reached my customary starting point at the northern tip of the island, I was more than ready to be in my snug warm hobbit hole of an apartment once again. I looked up at the sky and saw the bird of prey from the previous day (at least, I fancied it was the same fellow) gliding across the sky, and was able to ascertain that it was not a bald eagle. It was either a golden eagle or some type of hawk, out to find his/her breakfast, perhaps plucking it from the Mississippi or from the wooded areas thereabouts. I'd already had my breakfast, completed my morning constitutional, and was ready to make something of the day ahead.
Life flows on, in and around us--make of it an element in which you can float and breathe, like everything that lives and is buoyed up and carried in the river currents.
D.E.S.
I continued on my way, passing the Grove Street Flats, the Grain Belt Beer sign, De La Salle High School, and crossing underneath the Hennepin Bridge, where again I took note of the message scrawled on the pavement: FREE BRADLEY MANNING. Today, however, having yesterday gone home and consulted the Googlemeister, I was equipped with an understanding of who this Manning fellow was and why someone might wish him freed. For those who do not yet know (and this is old news indeed), see the following link:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bradley_Manning
Upon reaching the southern tip of the island, I was pleased to see the silver Christmas ball still hanging on the tree, where I had placed it the day before. The sun was shining and the view to the south was a lovely one, so t
hat I couldn't resist snapping a picture. Yes, that is me in my red winter jacket reflected in the shining ball ... cool, huh? Not bad for a lousy photographer such as me. I continued my walk, up the northern side of the island. This leg of my promenade was far less agreeable, given the bitter wind that was no longer at my back but now blowing in my face. I pulled my scarf up higher, over my nose, and soldiered on. By the time I'd reached my customary starting point at the northern tip of the island, I was more than ready to be in my snug warm hobbit hole of an apartment once again. I looked up at the sky and saw the bird of prey from the previous day (at least, I fancied it was the same fellow) gliding across the sky, and was able to ascertain that it was not a bald eagle. It was either a golden eagle or some type of hawk, out to find his/her breakfast, perhaps plucking it from the Mississippi or from the wooded areas thereabouts. I'd already had my breakfast, completed my morning constitutional, and was ready to make something of the day ahead.Life flows on, in and around us--make of it an element in which you can float and breathe, like everything that lives and is buoyed up and carried in the river currents.
D.E.S.
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