Robert (gurdonark) wrote,
Robert
gurdonark

I would meet you on Sister Grove Trail, and we would talk--really talk



Sunday my wife and I went on a five mile hike through Sister Grove Park with bardcat, who stopped by during one of his periodic work-related jaunts to our area. We drove out to Sister Grove Park, a frequent Spring hiking location for me, a walk through scraggle woods and semi-open spaces, near Lake Lavon.

I saw the first tiger swallowtail butterflies of the Spring, which, in this very early time, are but a fraction of the size that later generations will reach during the Summer. The effects of the drought still lingered, as the lake remained receded from its normal shoreline, and the plant foliage seemed weeks behind its usual late March progress. Although at our local park, we see a fair bit of the first prairie flowers like blue-eyed grass, Sister Grove had only a few trees in bloom. We saw a great blue heron, high overhead, a number of black vultures, a fleeting cardinal or two, and huge seagulls.

We held forth about matters of current interest, as we walked, with my wife and I perhaps speaking too often and too volubly, which is not uncommon, when we are with people we like and with whom we like to really talk. I often think that it would be really great if I could meet each of my closest LiveJOurnal friends for a long hike on an obscure trail, preferably when the susans are in bloom. I believe there is so much to say, and so much to understand, if one could merely walk long enough together with a met and yet unmet friend.

We stopped at the roadside truck to try to buy some Pittsburg hot links, which a hand-written sign advertised. Pittsburg hot links, an east Texas delicacy involving sausage links which are, as advertised, hot, provide a reason to stop at any roadside location. Sadly, though, as is often the case with hot links, the fellow at the roadside stand had run out by the time we arrived. I must make a mental note to visit Pittsburg, Texas sometime soon to sample the links once more. Imagine a cross between a cayenne pepper, a hot dog, and that sense of sizzle that arises when one feels the heat off a grilled cheese sandwich fresh off the skillet, and one can begin to imagine the blissful joy of the Pittsburg hot link.

We settled for Thai food, and talked of the curious notion of the obscure yet arrogant "celebrity" poet, careers fulfilled and fulfilling, and puzzles of mid-life. I love monsoon rolls and those seafood broths of lemongrass whose spices vaguely remind me of Pittsburg hot links. We enjoyed seeing bardcat, whom we hope will come again soon. I mentally added Pittsburg hot links to the menu, along with steamed tater tots, for some future as yet undisclosed time when microbie finally returns to north Texas.

Last night I made yet another late-night run to federal express. Then I remixed an eastern Orthodox choir to a hip hop beat and posted it on ccmixter. Then I began to read CS Lewis' "Prince Caspian". Then it was morning.
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