A walk in the sun

One advantage of going for a walk in the middle of a hot (93º+), sunny afternoon is that the Schuylkill Trail is not as crowded as usual.  I have to be careful not to make any sudden moves into the path of a bike or skateboard whizzing by at 20 mph, but other than that the river is peacefully baking in the sun at high tide.  And … this July afternoon one of my favorite flowers was in bloom along the path.  Black-eyed susans.  In the glare of the sun the three pictures I took all ended up with a finger blocking part of the frame so I had to use a stock picture off the net, but the picture is quite close to what I saw along the trail.

They remind me of the fields of tickseed sunflowers I used to see while biking through Bucks County north of Philadelphia at this time of year.

Hard to believe that was almost 30 years ago.  I hope those fields are not all blooming with McMansions now.

The walk and the flowers lit up my day, literally (sorry, Strunk).  I’ve been watching Season 7 of Ray Donovan lately.  The last two episodes have pulled on my Irish heart strings.  The one before ended with the haunting song Fisherman’s Blues by the Water Boys.  The sense of yearning is palpable in the music and the lyrics.

And I know I will be loosened
From the bonds that hold me fast
And the chains all around me
Will fall away at last
And on that grand and fateful day
I will take thee in my hand
I will ride on a train
I will be the fisherman
With light in my head
You in my arms

Then the episode I watched last night ended with two middle aged Irish brothers singing the lullaby their mother used to put them to bed, Toura Loura Loura.  As did mine.

That’s why I needed to get out in the sun today to bake that Irish melancholy out.  It worked.  You have to smile at Black Eyed Susans.

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