The teen-ager and I attended a nature walk at the Cylburn Arboretum today. I thought we had registured for a tour of winter dormant plant beds. We were instead led by a deer skin shirted tracker in poking our heads into the boxwoods to spy on rabbits and view the evidence of a hawk having snacked on a mourning dove. "Ey, deer scat"...he announced, rolling balls of poop on his open palm. We followed him as he poked through gopher holes and pointed out raccoon tracks in the mud. We stood in the chill wind as he mashed up a fox turd to tell us what he had been eating. Although a few edible plants were pointed out along the way, I think our favorite part of the walk was going inside the mansion for cookies and hot chocolate at the end.
As I watched my friend jumping on the lug wrench, trying to get some movement in the rusted nuts, I told him; "If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all..." Which is not exactly true, I was lucky to get the flat close enough to the notorious Mount Royal Tavern to enlist help. Another friend called his roadside service and they put the doughnut on. And, it held. And, I am starting a new banking assignment tomorrow. It can't be as bad as the last one.