Yesterday the sun rose blood red between the dark trees, and swirls of frozen fog lingered in the low parts of the land. It was a good day to leave the neighborhood and walk the Glade trail.
The Glade. I've always loved that name. It sounds like something out of Thomas Hardy's Wessex. And I have great affection for this path since it's one I've walked off and on for years.
But the Glade is not the place it used to be. A stream restoration project has elevated and opened up the creek bed, and what I noticed most was the gurgling of the water. Whereas before the creek was overgrown, muddy and still, now it is broad, open and brisk.
It was a lively place to be on a cold Sunday morning.