   | It's a little earlier in the day, and I've brought my camera to take pictures of this errant wilderness and my interaction with it. As I ride through, dessicated leaves sound like rain stick in the evening wind. I met a gentleman and his young son. The man had grown up in this neighborhood, and confirmed that this was where treated water ran from the city plant to the river. The signs bear witness to this. He informed me that it runs several miles to Martin Road and the treatment plant. I looked over it on a map and this confims that there is pathway from here to there. It also shows quite a bit more land forgotten in here than any one I knew who grew up down here knew existed. On the way in you can see signs of teenagers using it bonfire, mudding, and drinking but beyond that there are a bunch of fields to the east of the water system trail. At Hobbes Road I ran into a stream I didn't feel prepared to ford. Another day, especially since google maps shows so much more than I even realized. I wonder who owns all this? It could be a perfect greenway, and could even be made to connect with the greenway at ditto landing. On the stretch I've ventured through, there's plenty of room to create a gravel parking lot at each end, a strip of asphalt, and a removable vehicle barrier. This would undoubtedly make life a bit easier for the water plant, who's numerous fixtures likely need inspection. A greenway could provide limited vehicle access. A little more at the bike blog.Unfortunately I didn't think about charging the camera until the battery died in the field. Yeah, I know. |
Sunday, September 20, 2009
More on where the sidewalk ends.
Where the sidewalk ends
I found where the sidewalk ends. Little white flowers were growing there.
It was 7pm, the beginning of sunset, and in the cooling air I found a path, a little piece of forgotten wetland known only to wild animals and city waterworks employees, and undoubtedly to the adventurous children of our nearby streets.
Two deer have crossed my path, prancing high and elegantly across this flattened strip of earth that separates some isolated forest from the suburban neighborhood adjacent. A snake, which I think or at least fear was a water moccasin slithered just away from the wheels of my bike, and bear tracks helped show the best way to ford a small stream.
All of this exists within earshot of neighborhood, and is accompanied by the muffled sounds of dogs barking back and forth and children's evening laughter, and the constant backdrop of the main road through town.
It's a strip of land forgotten by development, which divides the space between the suburb and the military installation adjacent. Snakes and bears lend a watchful wildness to the cicada seasoned air as late summer rain clouds shift hues in time with the rotation of the earth.
It was 7pm, the beginning of sunset, and in the cooling air I found a path, a little piece of forgotten wetland known only to wild animals and city waterworks employees, and undoubtedly to the adventurous children of our nearby streets.
Two deer have crossed my path, prancing high and elegantly across this flattened strip of earth that separates some isolated forest from the suburban neighborhood adjacent. A snake, which I think or at least fear was a water moccasin slithered just away from the wheels of my bike, and bear tracks helped show the best way to ford a small stream.
All of this exists within earshot of neighborhood, and is accompanied by the muffled sounds of dogs barking back and forth and children's evening laughter, and the constant backdrop of the main road through town.
It's a strip of land forgotten by development, which divides the space between the suburb and the military installation adjacent. Snakes and bears lend a watchful wildness to the cicada seasoned air as late summer rain clouds shift hues in time with the rotation of the earth.
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