THE PATH IS NOT ALWAYS GREENER.........

We really enjoyed conference last weekend and have been trying to listen to the last session this week.  Conference here, live, started at 6 in the evening, so it was a little different than home.  We tuned in on the internet and loved the messages we heard.  We were  so sad to see our prophet's strength ebb because he has always seemed so strong.  I can't help but think of the weight of the world he must carry on his shoulders, and especially know he agonizes over members like those who come to conference to voice their non-support.  We can support him and lift him best by lifting those around us and by living the best we know how.  One can see how he has literally worn out his life in service.  I hope he is with us next April.

WHERE I WALK

We live where you see the red tab.
Several mornings a week, I slip outside to walk around the lakes which back our apartment building.  The lakes are in blue on the map and I don't always go around all of them, but at least three so I can see the swans. 

The path from our kitchen window.  We live on the 2nd story,  but the patio is on ground level.  People walk and talk and run and bike early 'til late.

I can't get to the path from the patio, so I skirt the side of our building and climb shallow, cobbled steps to get on the walking path which circles 5 lakes; separated  by busy streets.  Bikers and runners each own a path and you risk your life if you cross over without looking behind you.  These people are serious about their work-outs.  And, they don't warn you.

The  large vertical tiles on the left are for bikers who don't want to bump their bikes down the shallow steps on the right..

Walkers and runners beware

 As I walk, a hedge brushes my left shoulder and pigeons wait until the last minute to rocket from my feet to the chimney tops. Stately brick homes peek out behind their shrubbery and once in while the path widens into a small, cobbled rest area with benches.  

I would sit, but am generally in a hurry to get to the office.

White and grey swans accompany me as I walk; sometimes many, sometimes few.  Last week, a pen (female) and her cygnets lifted off behind some trailing willows and startled me.  It took me a minute to figure out what caused the muffled, rhythmic, thrumming sound.  They flew low and sailed into the next lake. It also solved a mystery about how the swans were there one day and gone the next. Who knew. 

Sometimes they tuck their head and necks under their wings and float and snooze, and sometimes they dive for food with their backside in the air and their little black feet dangling down to the water. 
 Comical.  And they all do it together.  Apparently, everyone gets the memo at the same time here.

As I cross a busy intersection to get to the next lake, the sky lightens in the east, back-lighting the clouds and silhouetting the city roofscapes behind a blush of pink: church spires, domes and flat roofs ripple in the water.  Jet trails pencil the sky and flocks of black birds wheel in the air.  If I'm lucky, church bells peal as if to welcome the day.

I love the ripples in the water as the wind picks up right before sunrise.

By the time I circle around, the sky loses its blush and the sun brushes the building fronts with light; the wind dies, the ripples flatten, and the lakes become glassy.

The spire you see is the Catholic Church whose bells ring all day.  The sliced tube-like building is a planetarium.  We look directly across at it from our dining windows.

Can I add that this dangerous moat is 10 to 12 inches deep.  ??

It's not quite the same as climbing toward the mountains in Mendon with dear friends, ............but, I will be sad if it gets too chilly to walk.