I’ve been walking almost every morning, part of the effort to lose weight.  (So far, in 6 weeks, 13 pounds.  But that’s not what this is about.)

I start by walking up the garden paths toward the “future” neighborhood walking path above our house.  As for now, it’s a muddy track.  Erosion is on my mind.  A month or so ago, a big chunk of the track broke away and slurped and gushed down the seasonal creek along the edge of our property.  The developer hung a big piece of black plastic over the new edge of the track, anchored at the top, but not the bottom.  When the wind blows uphill (which it does with nearly every storm), the black plastic lifts up its skirts, turns itself inside out, and covers the track instead of the eroding bank.  Several times, on my walk, I’ve heaved the black plastic back over the edge, not sure if it makes any difference anyway.

The problem, of course, is all the water coming off the hill above, which wasn’t properly channeled or otherwise accounted for when the developer added fill to make the track (and utility ditch), long before we were on the scene. That problem continues, although we have assurances that in the dry season all will be made right.  The uphill neighbors just a few weeks ago cut trees and stripped nearly all the other vegetation off their property.  It can’t help the erosion.  They presumably did it to preserve their Mt. Hood view.  Hmmpf!

Walking on.  Elk tracks in the mud.  Wild cherry trees in bloom. Frogs signaling their happiness in the wet.  First wild iris.  Trillium blossoms, turning pink/purple as they near the end of their bloom.

A few weeks ago, I saw the first trillium.  The next day, it was gone.  There were footprints in the wet grass, so obviously someone picked it.  That made me pretty mad at the time.  My mother said (and she learned it from her mother) that when you pick a trillium blossom, you kill the plant.  Folklore, you say.  No, I googled it, and indeed, when you pick a trillium blossom it can kill the plant (not always).  I think, in retrospect, that it was my grandmother’s indignation I was channeling.  There are lots of trilliums (“trillia”?) in the woods.  It was probably a child who didn’t know better.

A new mushroom (a sort I’ve never seen before) along the path.  Wild lupines (just the plants so far), with a raindrop pearl in the center of each leaf cluster.  Back to the front door.  The day lies ahead, full of possibilities.