2.35 miles
47th ave, north/river road, north/river road, south/edmund, south
82 degrees
dew point: 73
So hot and thick outside this morning. And it’s only 8:30. Decided to end the run with a sprint up the final hill–the same hill I was sprinting up at the end of my runs in the winter except this time I was on the road and not the trail. Felt pretty good at the end. I should try a workout where I warm up for a few miles and then do some sprints.
Encountered mostly walkers and bikers, a few runners, some roller skiers. Saw some people heading up the hill from the rowing club. Had they just been rowing? I’d like to try that sometime. Heard some music coming out of a bike speaker but it was too quiet and distorted from the doppler effect for me to identify what the song or genre was, just tinny noise. Don’t remember hearing or seeing any birds or dogs or squirrels. No river. Quietly called “Watch out!” at a clueless pedestrian slowly walking across the road right in front of me, not looking at all (except at her phone). Don’t think she heard me. Ran on the gravel several times. Mostly level but in mounds at the edges. Scott says they will come through and clear it all off when they’ve done all the roads. I hope they do it before they open the river road back up to cars next week. I’ll miss the crunchy sound but not the uneven ground.
Birds!
While I don’t remember hearing any birds this morning, I did come across a tweet about birdsong mnemonics that inspired me to think about birds and how they sound. Here are a few links I want to revisit:
- Tweet from @frannychoir with some birdsong mnemonics
- Here I Am! Where are You? Minding Birdsong in the North American Forest
- Aaaaw to Zzzzzd: The Words of Birds: North America, Britan, and Norther Europe
And, here are 2 bird poems, one just about birds, one about birdsong, both my Emily Dickinson:
A Bird, came down the Walk – (359)/ EMILY DICKINSON
A Bird, came down the Walk –
He did not know I saw –
He bit an Angle Worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,
And then, he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass –
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass –
He glanced with rapid eyes,
That hurried all abroad –
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought,
He stirred his Velvet Head. –
Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers,
And rowed him softer Home –
Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
The Birds begun at Four o’clock —/ Emily Dickinson
The Birds begun at Four o’clock —
Their period for Dawn —
A Music numerous as space —
But neighboring as Noon —
I could not count their Force —
Their Voices did expend
As Brook by Brook bestows itself
To multiply the Pond.
The Listener – was not —
Except occasional man —
In homely industry arrayed —
To overtake the Morn —
Nor was it for applause —
That I could ascertain —
But independent Ecstasy
Of Universe, and Men –
By Six, the Flood had done —
No Tumult there had been
Of Dressing, or Departure —
And yet the Band – was gone —
The Sun engrossed the East —
The Day Resumed the World — controlled
The Miracle that introduced
Forgotten, as fulfilled.