Joe. Mow. Flow.

Operating on the theory that walking and outdoors are an indisputably holistic and life-affirming combination, I struck out into the beautiful, clear, windy afternoon.

First off, I met Joe, who, noticing my Frankenstein Collar, and hearing about my smash-up, counseled me to sue Cell Phone Dude From Hell immediately. He would. If he were me. Even for the few gallons of unused gas that might have been in my poor old lavender Corolla when it met its maker ! For my pain and suffering. For my, goddamn it, lack of FUN ! Wink wink. I squatted to pat the cutesy little pup, Winston. It seemed pleased. Joe and I came to a quick agreement about how cell phones and driving do not mix.

I was going to head to Gore Place and scope out the sheep, but my Judge Judyesque chat w/ Joe so addled me that before I knew it, I was halfway to the river. Fair enough. Haven't been to the Chuck for weeks, since my days of weed and wildflower spotting.

Much to my surprise, someone (who?) has given the Charles River bike path a haircut !

All those luxuriant ranks of hosannah-waving horseweed are GONE ! Mowed to a flat lawn. Along with many of the other overgrown stands of weed and vine. Not, I suppose, in a bad or ugly way, but in a way that clears out for next year's growth -- and there's plenty left to observe, naturally -- but, gosh, it looks different !

The beautiful phragmites have been decapitated, but that outlandish, tall and delicate grass I couldn't identify, with the spare calligraphic seedhead w/ orange and purple fuzzy tongues, that's still there -- the seeds involuted to a spare dull brown. I was glad to see them. The loosestrife has all gone out. Snuffed brown wicks. The tendrilled grape-vine like thing near the footbridge, with the small white flowers has sprouted huge, wild, spiky green pods. The only color, now, is from the late blooming asters -- purple, and white. The bees were going at it. Waxy fruits were everywhere: light dusty blue (?holly), red,
dark blue. Plus choke cherries, and nightshade berries. A few evening primrose still had a yellow petal or two, but, by and large, the world was busily going to seed in a million shades of brown.

I felt very happy. There was wind, and movement, and the sound of the wind. There was the smell of the water, and the cascade of memories that invokes. Ducks on the water -- some mallards with their shiny green heads. Birds fluttering in the underbrush. Seeing and hearing and thinking and the world seemed one seamless flow.

May all beings be as happy as I was in that moment, and as at peace.