A Sabbath Stroll

Like to come along on our stroll with us?  I was seeking physical activity and an airing-out of the brain after a very, very difficult week at work. I knew that my favorite walking place in the valley--Mill Creek and Bennington Lake--would do the trick.  And they did.

The whole area is a project of the Army Corps of Engineers, whose aim it was to prevent flooding in the valley and at the same time to protect a place for returning salmon to spawn. The first part of the walk is a paved pathway along Mill Creek, frequented by ducks, a bittern and a great blue heron.  The path itself is regularly traversed by walkers, cyclists and in-line skaters.

On the south side of the creek runs a gravel road providing a nice alternative for walking along Mill Creek and a pathway for horseback riding. It reminded me, watching the riders pass by, of how much I wanted a horse when I was a young girl.  But that is a bit difficult to arrange when you grow up on a tropical island in southeast Asia!

A couple of miles into my walk I arrived at Bennington Lake.  Husband had taken a different route and was to meet me there. The lake lies at the foot of a waterway created to siphon off spring runoff into the valley behind the dam. The lake itself was at the lowest I've ever seen it. Even the overflow tower was completely high and dry, and families and dogs were out walking on the dry mud flats. Nevertheless, it's still a beautiful valley in the rise at the edge of the Blue Mountains.

While I strolled through the parking lot on that end of the trail, I ran into people I knew. It's a hazard and blessing of living in a small community. First there was colleague Don out mountain biking with his lads in the afternoon sunshine.  He wore his typical grin; they wore their typical sour expressions.  Families are funny.

And then there was Sandy, who knew me by name and face and recognized that I wouldn't know her name, so she graciously introduced herself. She told me her daughter is a missionary in north Philippines this year, and commented with a smile that a huge cyclone is heading straight for that area. She was intrigued but not too worried.  Heather is living in a cement house, she said, so she should be okay. They had just skyped the evening before, and Sandy was out here to get photos of the fall colors to e-mail to Heather. I enjoyed her calm, cheery spirit.

While we were talking, Martin and Cheryl drove up with their van-load of kids and their blond poodle. I went to college with them, yea many years ago. We spoke of their kids' schooling, and they asked about my brother.  I met them again on the other side of the lake, walking single file and their second son sporting his quick and friendly grin.

The fall colors are indeed setting in.  Not in full swing, but the tall trees are yellowing, the late afternoon sunshine glowing through the leaves. I love these little stands of trees. While the ryegrass is pretty, it's the trees that feed my forest-hungry eyes on this dry eastern side of the state.

It was along this trail that Husband came sauntering along, and we joined forces for the rest of our walk, readjusting to conversation and the other person's pace.

Above the dry lake bed at a frequent viewing spot, Husband spotted a raptor.  I don't know what kind of bird it was, but it had laid claim to a lovely snag from which to survey its kingdom, or queendom as the case may be.  My friends Jayne and Ruth might be able to name this one. I am not a birder, but I like watching the raptors with their regal poise.

Here's a closer-up view of the bird. I didn't catch a picture of it in flight, although I tried.

It's wonderful that people saw fit to protect this area and make it into a huge natural wilderness with many trails for walking.  Part of the delight of walking in this area is that every corner you come around seems to present you with a completely different kind of vista, from lake, to ryegrass, to forest, to thistle thicket.

We arrived back at the top of Mill Creek, where Husband did me the favor of posing on the picturesque bridge.  A little way upstream the ducks pointed their butts up toward the heavens as they fed on the goodies to be found underwater.

And then we walked down-creek on the graveled side, into the rays of the setting sun.

The sumac is turning red.  The autumn is upon us.

May your week ahead be blessed.