It Takes a Village

I faced down two conflicting temptations: a challenging bike ride on Saturday, or a Covid-19 vaccine booster shot on Friday.

Taking it easy after getting the shot seemed prudent, so ... one or the other. [Decide.]

The booster won. Appointments were plentiful on Friday; next week, not so much.

A modest (5-mile) hike on Sunday seemed doable.

I wasn't the only one out for a stroll. A civilized “March Against Hate” drew a sizeable crowd, responding to a disturbing uptick of baseness in our community. Motorists idled patiently as the police escorted the flow of people toward town. Peace and Coexist signs. Hate has no home here.

I took my time, exploring occasional clearings alongside the trail. Some water still flows in the creek, released from the reservoir above.

Music interrupted the sounds of nature as a couple approached briskly from behind. I stepped aside to let them pass, wondering why the man was carrying a large white sack. I didn't notice the piece of litter at my feet until he paused to collect it (with his nifty trash-grabber gadget). The sack, of course, held the trash he'd picked up.

A kindred spirit! Years ago, my coworkers and I had a few favorite spots where we'd enjoy our lunch (weather permitting), and we would always pick up some trash left by others. I've removed countless nails and screws from the roadway, while biking; and last year I stashed a bag in my car to collect at least some of the litter I find in remote spots where we gather to ride.

I would later learn that what I thought were chestnuts were actually dangling from California Buckeyes, a reminder that it's a bad idea for amateurs (like me) to eat what you might forage. [They're toxic.]

Now, foraging for trash—that's something I can get behind. Strive to leave every place better than you found it.