Yes, I do know that Sunday was Saint Patrick’s day, but not being one for crowds, particularly when they are parked in front of my house, and not having any Irish blood in me (Achtung!), I hunkered down in my Fortress of Solitude and sketched out super hero adventures with one of my friendly neighborhood superheros. When things had calmed down, and the acolytes of the man reputed to have driven snakes out of Ireland (if only he had stopped by my place in person) had finished their last beers and returned whence they came, then, and only then, did I venture to poke my head out of my lair and sally forth into the bright day.
Rigby, the faithful hound who guards my home and alerts me to revelers tossing their wretched refuse onto my lawn, had been lobbying to go along with me to what has become his favorite park as well, and though I rather steadfastly refused all his entreaties, in the end, puppy dog eyes triumphed over iron will. He was eager to get out when we arrived near the Jewel Box. We did a lot of investigating there (he’s a nose to the ground sort of dog) before we walked around the Central Fields, past hidden creek savannah, the second oldest human artifact in the park, and the Keep Off The Grass sign.
Today was a big sky day, complete with a fringe of fluffy white clouds scuttling by against their azure backdrop. The moon waxed poetically while high above us jet planes left their trails of vapor and down on the earth, in America’s premier urban park, the trees and the grasses glowed in the late day sun.
“Isn’t this great, Rigby?” I enquired of my favorite hound. Rigby raised his head to sniff the air in apparent agreement. “What could possibly make this day better?”
That was when my granddaughter showed up with a birthday cake for me. Please note that in Spanish, labials are frequently interchanged.