12 October 2015

Yesterday was a

Yesterday was a lovely day. When I woke up, my allergies were so bad that I thought the day was ruined. I took an antihistamine pill, and it did nothing. I could not stop sneezing. I used up an entire box of tissues.

But when I said that yesterday was a lovely day, I was not being ironic. What happened is that I decided to go on a long bike ride, to spite my allergies. I refused to let my allergies hold me down. I stuffed all of my pockets with tissues, took my bike out of the garage, and left.

During the whole trip, I had to keep pulling over to the side of the road to blow my nose. I stopped like fifty times per city block of travel.

When I arrived at the park, I was rewarded with the sight of a small bird holding a frog in its beak. It looked just like a detail of a painting by Hieronymus Bosch. I want to tell the name of the bird, but this was of a type that has not yet been identified by Science, so I will call her Kimmy.

I did not see the Kimmy Bird actually consume the frog. I only saw her standing on a rock in the water, holding the frog in her beak. She also flew about fifteen meters westward, holding the frog all the while, and landed on another rock in the water.

The frog was either dead or paralyzed with fright, because he did not move. It almost seemed like he was a fake frog, made out of rubber or some sort of soft plastic, because his body, rather than drooping, was quite rigid. And his extremities were extended so that he resembled a crucifix: because of this, I will always think of him as the Green Jesus.

Another sight that struck me as noteworthy was a pair of geese that were very large and round. They were out in the water, but they had found a shallow part of the pond, so they were actually standing (each on just one leg) instead of swimming: this elevated their healthy plump bodies about two inches above the surface, so, with the exception of the slender pole of leg that could be seen beneath them, they appeared to be levitating in midair.

The park also had a secluded area where there was a sunny expanse of grass with a pleasant incline: this is where I chose to stop and tilt back and read a favorite poem by Wallace Stevens. It is of medium length (twenty pages, in the book that I own), so it enriches a fair amount of time and yet can be enjoyed in a single sitting. It is called “An Ordinary Evening in New Haven.” My sweetheart was with me, so I read its words aloud. She loves this poem too.

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