The trail along the Lake is such an incredible opportunity to experience the stillness of nature. I’m sandwiched between this mass of water and an expanse of earth that is thoughtfully laid out and taken care of. Once I pull my bike off the highway and head down to the lake I go straight to the edge, where the sidewalk is, where all of the interesting things are. The pigeons are eating strewn bread crumbs and the sail boats are moored along the shelf of the lake. My favourite boat is always there, the one that’s made to look like a pirate ship. I don’t imagine it would be very aerodynamic but it sure is fun to behold.
I meander around said pigeons, some sleeping right on the path, who nonchalantly lift themselves off the white stone gravel and begin to gently step away from where they were. Naturally they tend towards the exact clear path that I, too was heading for. I’ve come to know these pigeons or, at least, the pigeon brain enough that I squeeze my brakes instinctively when I’m about to encounter their erratic sense of spatial awareness.
Eventually I round the small bay and pass by the red-winged blackbird nest. My favourite. I love to stop and hear their songs. I’m amazed at the proximity it sits to the path with all it’s comings and goings. Warbling away, it has no need to heed the business or the leisure of those that wander along the adjacent path. It looks so plump and cute nestled on it’s cat tail perch, singing its song. I pass the soccer fields that are full of bold-coloured uniformed kids in the afternoon hours.
Now, though the fields are mostly empty. A few exclusive groups of twos or threes are amply housed by the thousands of square feet of manicured green. The sun’s already gone down this evening. The air off the lake is distinct and strong. Like a delicate sheet I press into with every pump of my pedals, it cools my skin still holding the memory of the blaring sun it absorbed this day.
The lake is still. How can such a large body of water be so still? A part of a body – like an arm of a being, a vein of Divine Mother. I can attribute the majesty of its stillness to the power She holds. The cool grace in her eyes reflects of of the glassy surface. I am spellbound by the potential inherently existing within each static drop. The sail boats adorn Her body like jewels, effortlessly placed with pure precision.
I round the bend, pass the fields and enter the park. The suns slides further behind the mountain making the air seem even more smudgier. I turn off the path towards the start of the bridge. Large trees surround me now. They are responding to the sun and warm and allowing their buds to open fully into leaves. They are this covering above me making me feel as though I were indoors yet with this tall tall sky as my roof. Held in this silent palace with velvet green beneath my wheels the rhythmic brush of my misshapen tire against its left break offers a beat I move to.
I edge towards pavement again and dismount to pull my bike up the bridge’s steep embankment. Almost home. First I get to soar over this lake. I ride this fiery-orange steel and cement encased bird across the air. Its evenly placed feathers brush past me, each beam of support locked in its place as I fly over the fish and plants beneath in that lake I was so recently beside. I am closer to the sunset now yet enclosed by the open ribs of this massive bird’s suspended supports.
I cross. The spell somehow ends. I’m just another vehicle in traffic on my way home. I bike away from the water now, and up the small rise home remembering the majesty and magic of the lake in evening.