Today I set off for Stow Lake from the 19th Avenue entrance to Golden Gate Park listening to Start Something That Matters on my iPod. My goal was to walk for at least forty minutes, break a mild sweat, and enjoy the sun (which quickly slid behind a shield of cloud-cover). Since I've moved closer to Stow Lake, I've spent many a morning or afternoon meandering through the island trails or up and down the stairs near the waterfall but, I'm always surprised by something new that I've never seen before. This walk was no different. Unfortunately, I left my camera at home as well as my cell-phone so, there aren't any visuals to enjoy. But, as I made a loop around the back end of the park nearing the boat house, a man knelt near the shore of the lake. About two feet away from the lake-edge, on a rocky outcropping, there were three turtles sunning and just beyond, a duck. They seemed to be oblivious to the growing crowd on the nearby bank.
Shortly after, I climbed the rough wooden stairs just above one of the two bridges that lead onto the island in the middle of the lake. I streaked past some bicyclists and other visitors enjoying a relaxing stroll. Instead of reaching the top of the falls and turning around, I decided to follow the other path around the hill-top reservoir and ended up at Strawberry Hill. How is it possible that I never walked up there before? I wondered. Apparently, "hill-topping" is a common butterfly behavior, when they "head for the hills" and flit from pollen-producer to pollen-producer while somehow sensing other butterfly pheromones, if I'm remembering the signage correctly. There weren't any butterflies as the clouds continued to gather but the views of the Sunset, the Richmond, and the Golden Gate Bridge from behind the great green trees were lovely.
As I wandered back down the dirt path, a tourist was viewing a rock nestled in the hill with the words Huntington Falls carved into it. How have I never seen that? I balked, trying to remember how many times I've walked above the falls that I did not know had a name. Me and Stow Lake go way back. We may have become acquainted for the first time as I slogged through at a medium paced, sweaty jog at age 16 or so, as I "ran" a long-distance race through Golden Gate Park. More than likely, I wasn't paying attention to anything but my self-conscious body, the boy I had a crush on, and how out of breath I was. After I moved to San Francisco, I started walking and running again, eventually, and in the process re-introduced myself to Stow Lake. Like an old and evolving friend, it continues to show me new sides every visit.
Shortly after, I climbed the rough wooden stairs just above one of the two bridges that lead onto the island in the middle of the lake. I streaked past some bicyclists and other visitors enjoying a relaxing stroll. Instead of reaching the top of the falls and turning around, I decided to follow the other path around the hill-top reservoir and ended up at Strawberry Hill. How is it possible that I never walked up there before? I wondered. Apparently, "hill-topping" is a common butterfly behavior, when they "head for the hills" and flit from pollen-producer to pollen-producer while somehow sensing other butterfly pheromones, if I'm remembering the signage correctly. There weren't any butterflies as the clouds continued to gather but the views of the Sunset, the Richmond, and the Golden Gate Bridge from behind the great green trees were lovely.
As I wandered back down the dirt path, a tourist was viewing a rock nestled in the hill with the words Huntington Falls carved into it. How have I never seen that? I balked, trying to remember how many times I've walked above the falls that I did not know had a name. Me and Stow Lake go way back. We may have become acquainted for the first time as I slogged through at a medium paced, sweaty jog at age 16 or so, as I "ran" a long-distance race through Golden Gate Park. More than likely, I wasn't paying attention to anything but my self-conscious body, the boy I had a crush on, and how out of breath I was. After I moved to San Francisco, I started walking and running again, eventually, and in the process re-introduced myself to Stow Lake. Like an old and evolving friend, it continues to show me new sides every visit.
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