The High Line Trail is a lovely place. I set out at 1130, and the day was even lovelier; it combined all the best aspects of summer—the bright sun and the painfully blue sky, the extremely green grass—and all the best aspects of autumn—the brilliant yellow cottonwoods and ashes, and the relative cool for noon. The trail is a stripe of green winding through the city, with leaves scattered on the trail and the water of the canal, and leafy shadows from the bright trees that overhang. Today had been the kind of day that makes me want to sit on a wide lawn by a wood eating cherry ice, and get up later to play frisbee. I even saw two magpies (for joy, you may recall) sitting picturesquely on a fence by a purple field of some kind of wild rye.
Even more delightfully, during the first leg of my journey I passed an old couple riding in pony-drawn chariots, the sort I imagine hobbits would go to war in. The woman smiled cheerily as I passed, and the man had an awful little mustache reminiscent of Salvador Dalí. I am still awfully fond of them.
But, Best Beloved, a two-hour bicycle ride is an excellent way to work up an appetite! I leave you to picture the rest of the day, very fast sinusoidal caterpillars and all, because I’m going to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich and drink iced tea. Cheers!