Lots of sun and the clear blue sky. Cloudless. That was okay. But the sun and the near perfect day often means plenty of enthusiasts. Enthusiastic about what? The chance. To jog, walk, run, cycle, photograph trees and birds, to walk dogs, and so forth and so on. But there weren’t a lot and we headed down an out of the way meandering and intriguingly labyrinthine series of pathways. There was an old seat from a wreck of some sort, and a motor oil can from what had to be the seventies or even before. Tall trees, some fallen, exposing wild and wandering root systems. The blue sky peering through the tops of the forest. And flowers. Little purple ones, - yellow also. Once we came out of the valley we went to the sand pit and looked around the open spaces where the old farm equipment and pine trees wait. A bit tired by then, we three, and slowed by the heat of the sun, - just taking it easy. But there is a tall climb soon after to the top of a hill, - the ground is golden and brown and green- patched as if colored in sporadically. There are some natural rocks and also some three quarter crushing and manufactured bricks. The deer cautiously come out there and look around but they were not seen today. Some small blue wildflowers, - delicate, unprotected really by grasses or shrubs, by trees or bark or even chaparral or so much as a little indentation or incline, - waited there. They were, like the other buds and flowers, - suddenly announced by the world in the first few warm days of the earth. Each time it is new. Each time it is the same but different.