photos by Patricia
And so we take the way less traveled, or so we thought. Dogs off leashes, one coming up to the truck to bark at me before even exiting the vehicle. Others on leashes, but not one person, walker, or biker, wore a mask, not one!
As if proud of their independence from wearing one, each turn their head to puff out GOOD MORNING, possibly spreading germs our way… infuriating me. Even if the passing goes quickly, the space between us is only a foot or two. So don’t turn towards me with your big mouth opened wide spewing out a greeting that could also spew contamination. Dumb as rocks, dumb or in denial.
How hard is it to wear a mask? We keep ours on, but pulled down on our chins, making it easy even on bikes to pull up when seeing passersby’s. Doesn’t anyone remember there’s a pandemic?
“Shut you pie hole,” I want to scream, but I don’t open my mouth even if it is covered showing others respect they don’t show us.
Just wave if you have to, or nod your head. But if you’re not wearing a mask don’t expect me to reciprocate. That would be like thanking you for trying to kill me.
Still, we love the trail along the water, miles and miles it. Abundant wild roses last week wafting a heaven of sweetness through the air. This week, daisies, buttercups, chicory, and many other wild flowers dotting the path to the bridge in the next town.
Though the ride is an hour and half, after returning home, the glorious day drew me out to more azure skies warm with sun, and breezes causing the meadow to dance dappling the ground with lacy patterns. The humidity had been swept away leaving one of those days to capture in its splendor of perfection.