Oh, Run Along Now

That's what I try to do, just run along now (and also then). Now and then, now and again--many, many nows (which turn into thens).

I was out Sunday for an 8-miler. It was the end of the week and I took it easy. I ran north on my usual path. Coolish air kept me stepping lively, I must say.

There's a section of the path (the Ohlone Greenway, to write with more accuracy) that runs through El Cerrito. Along the way, on the eastern side of the trail, a drainage trough at the base of a concrete retaining wall that is dry most of the year tends to fill with rainwater during the wetter months. The water feeds the grasses, and the grasses attract happy little frogs, who start families in the shelter of the wall. Local schoolteachers have sussed the froggies out, divining in their magical way a field trip ripe for the planning. Here's to the woggling of many pollys.

I didn't hear the frogs Sunday, but smelled the moisture and was happy in anticipation of future frog-enhanced runs. Meanwhile, I was content to snap a photo of the froggies' personal nature mural.

It was so early that morning that I could have shot a cannon down Solano Avenue and not hit anything.

I seriously considered doing that, but oh, the complications. Where would I get a cannon? and if I found one, how would I get it to Albany? And once I did, where would I get a match for the powder? Nothing but problems--the last thing I needed on a happy Sunday run. So Solano Avenue remained unfired upon for another day.

When I got back to the ranch (as we say out West), I thought maybe the neighbor's house had been hit by a cannon--smoke was pouring out of one wall.
False alarm. As the saying goes, where there's smoke, there's a clothes dryer. Just another day here on the frontier.