There Goes the Neighborhood

meadow

Under full sun on this Sunday, Aki, his other human, and I go for a bike ride. The little dog rides in a handlebar basket. In truth she would rather be running along side us but that would not be safe on this road between the Herbert and Eagle Rivers. We ride through a crowded picnic area to a meadow covered in blue lupine, wild flags (iris), yellow Indian paintbrush, and chocolate lilies, stopping where it touches a beach along the Eagle River.

Cotton

We are not far from a picnic shelter full of people enjoying the weather, view, and each other’s company. Their conversations blend with the complaints of a gang of Canada geese watching the tidal moat that once protected their gravel bar island shrink on the ebb. When a land bridge forms, the geese fly away, shouting out the geese evident of, “There goes the neighborhood.” Aki ignores them.

geese

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