I’m not sure what this little masked visitor is, but I found him perched alone atop a tree at the far north end. Later I discovered a wooly worm, the caterpillar of the Giant Leopard moth, wandering the trail in search of a place to hunker down.
I know why I love my daily walks here. I feel alive. All of my senses are fully engaged. My eyes are constantly scanning–up, down, side-to-side, even behind me (because you never know what might have just flown in). The sense of smell is working overtime detecting a sweet scent here, death and decay there. Touch senses a gentle breeze against the skin, the hot, scorching sun, or the bite of a mosquito. My ears listen for the sounds of the birds–the osprey, the mockingbirds, the herons. I feel immersed, and it’s a good feeling.
The saga of the resilient seashore mallow, featured recently, continues. It was trampled a couple of months ago, but had the audacity to not only grow, but bloom, as well (l). Today it fell victim once again, this time to the city’s tractor. I predict it will rise again.