The Challenge of Walking Home

A visit to the garage, where I left my car in the capable hands of my mechanic and his youngest daughter, whom he is training. (He's a feminist! Who knew!)

Then a walk up the trail, ten minutes at most, but extended to 45. Not by intention, but because I was distracted by

• the Shenanigans window's carnival mirror reflection of Woody's Bicycles
• a male Diana butterfly, still considered rare but certainly present here in wooded areas, nectaring
• a large sulphur butterfly darting down the creekbed
• acrobatics of a Tiger Swallowtail balanced on the tip of a long weedy branch
• the Red-spotted Purple puddling in gravel at my feet
• prismatic argiope webs, one after another, catching a little light in heavy shade
• two hawking Black Saddlebagsin front of the Chapel of the Apostles, darting from lamp to steeple, high above my head and low below my knees
• glow of the newly restored dorm, all golden against azure sky

Good thing the car won't be ready till tomorrow. My eyes are sore.