Took a walk around the 2.9 mile Dragonfly Trail loop this afternoon around 3:30 p.m. On this walk I crossed paths with other men who were fishing and walking in pairs. More times than not there was a fortuitous sense of warmth and fellowship in my encounters with them, rather than the sterile glare of a passing stranger. A pair of middle-aged fishing buddies said hi as I passed by. A pair of older men walked the trail. A pair of young boys on neon bikes said enthusiastic good byes to one another as they parted ways at a trail split: one towards the causeway and one around the main loop. All in great spirits. That swashbuckling enthusiasm of guys just being guys in the wilderness is revitalizing. Today, the evidence runs contrary to the crooning zeitgeist of the lonesome male.
The Dragonfly Trail abuts quarry waters once owned by the Martin Marietta Corporation. The western half encountered first is abundant with soaring osprey from above and ruddy ducks down below in the freshwater. The eastern slice of the trail is wrapped in a warm blanket of Spanish moss. I enjoy the walk in its entirety but the eastern portion feels like coming home after a long journey. To synchronize the steps on the eastern end with the golden hour in my eyes is mastery of the walk. To catch slices of golden sun between the moss shade creates a solar checker board that exalts the trail to a transcendence. As the afternoon sun is still premature for this window, today I do not play checkers.
I aim to reconcile the objective experience of the walk with the subjective moments in my brain: the musings, the ruminations, the pain, the neuronal toil my modern life. The temperature is in the 80s. The microclimate of the park is cooler than the heat island effect in the nearby suburbs, but the humidity has crept back in with a vengeance. I see a monarch butterfly and infinite dragonflies. The breeze is serene and brushes the common reeds, which decorate the quarry water, with gentle symmetry, speaking to me seductively in patterns. God is here. He is the grand architect of this place, punctuated by a little human collaboration: the gravel parking; the observation deck; the fishing pier; the playground. Places where God and mankind dance are peaceful to me. Where the shaping of the natural worlds is more careful and not destructive.