With a respite between storms, I could have completed my errands by cycling around town. That would have been quicker, but I wanted more exercise. More time outdoors.
I laced up some hiking shoes and set off on foot. I first crossed the creek on my way to the dry cleaner's. Fast-moving water, the color of caramel.
Backtracking to the creek trail would likely save time: no traffic lights or crosswalks, just a direct (and scenic) route to downtown. The acacia trees are in bloom.
I was lucky to score some Girl Scout cookies after I left the Post Office, just as they finished packing up and started to roll their cart back home.
That was a genius move, as I had brought along a bottle of water—but no snack. My plan was to continue following the trail upstream, to see how much water was flowing over the spillway at the dam. Lunch could wait.
So much water, raging urgently down the creek.
Splashing and tumbling, surging and swirling.
It seemed almost angry when it sprayed up and around any obstacle in its path.
It picked up speed as it flowed from one level to the next.
It slowed in apparent confusion, losing direction when the banks widened enough for the water to pool.
Once the spillway was in sight, I couldn't resist continuing across the face of the dam to behold the sights from above.
So much water, and more on the way.
Raindrops sprinkled now and then, which kept many people at home. There were joggers and dog walkers, mountain bikers and road cyclists, parents and children.
Plenty of mud, along with puddles and rivulets, on the trail.
And one lone lupine.
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