reflecting on her birthday, she did not have clear memories of her 45th, so before I forget...
I woke up yesterday with no plans of going to work because Mosaic Woman needed help to leave me for the weekend, on my birthday no less. We hoped to find a diner along the way, but with that assumption being wrong, we stopped in Jenkintown and walked the streets till we found Jenkintown Java, where we got buzzed on coffee and pastry. We went east on Route 73 till it became Cottman Avenue in NE Philly. I dropped her off which would begin an adventure that her message last night included driving into Boston with bad directions.
I on the other hand, with map in hand went north on 232 and landed myself at a place I knew in my memory, the Pennypack Preserve. I am grateful to these folk, who are working hard to preserve old forest and create new grassland. As I walked through the latter I realized I was in bobolink territory, a bird I blogged about here. But it was when I turned downhill on the peak trail that I saw God in the green. Old trees, like the majority of plants, do not use green light, which is passed through the leaves. I was in a sea of green light under the oldest trees I had seen in a long time.
At the bottom I reach the Pennypack Creek and eventually sat skimming rocks across a zone of slow moving water, a pool. A bird catches my attention, a warbler by its nature, gets me to my feet and I try to identify it, but it moves on. So do I... just in time to see a duck fly into a tree. I am ready to identify a wood duck when I quickly see my mistake and another green of God's creation.
A green heron sits perched on a branch and lets me watch it for minutes. I decree a birthday resolution... it is time I do something I have considered for years. The photo above was taken by Tony Adcock which I found at his amazing Flickr site... check out his photos.
In the evening I drive west on 73 till I cut down to 422. I am on my way to listen to jazz, but I have time and there is a diner. I stop for coconut cream pie and coffee. Tis my birthday after all.
I get a good seat at Gerald Veasley's jazz base and talk jazz with a man who sits down next to me. I make him laugh when I say I didn't even bother to research the man playing sax after I had looked up Rachel Z. Anyone good enough to play piano for Wayne Shorter and for Peter Gabriel, must be great. And she was according to my neighbor for the evening.
Too bad she wasn't wearing a green dress it would have made the theme stronger, but the greens in my salad were cool and I am grateful for all that happened as I hit my early exact mid 40's.