After a day of heat and humidity, the heavens opened at night with a fantastic display of Donner und Blitzen. This morning the creek was utterly perfect: all the bags and bottles and trash had been washed away to pollute someone else’s corner of the world, while my little corner was as crisp as a bed made with hospital creases (whatever they are).
This pink ball was the solitary man-made thing in the creek (if you don’t count the creek itself).
It was like a ride-on mower in a Japanese garden, so incongruous that I had to stop and take its picture. Just as I did so a goods train lumbered past; mankind slowly working his way back into the frame. Less visible are the cormorants circling around, working a school of fish, and the black-shouldered kite lurking in the crossbars of the telegraph pole. Really should get me an iPhone.
