Not just an ordinary jog in the park

I had my own personal Earth Day celebration this weekend – a surprise party actually.

As I drove down to the river for a morning run, a thick fog limited visibility to about 30 feet. I delighted at the sudden sight of a big wild turkey strutting in the coulee near my car. I felt like yelling, “Good morning,” to him.

The entire river valley was smothered in fog, even the bridges were hidden from view.
The birds had already been awake for hours. They had a lot to talk about after such a long winter. Their busy chatter provided the music for my run. Woodpeckers hammered away on trees, robins sang their cheerful song and countless others I can’t identify clucked, cawed and tweeted excitedly. Maybe I’ll see an owl, I thought, and kept a close watch on the naked trees for any such sign.

I passed a lone goose swimming peacefully on some backwaters. He was still there an hour later on my return -- what a life! A few of his lady friends were making their way toward his pond and I almost had to veer off my path to avoid them.

Showing not even a hint of concern at my presence, they leisurely waddled across the trail, glancing ever so slightly at me with their bills in the air. All they needed were a couple of bonnets and they could have passed for the sassy geese in “The Aristocats.”

A squirrel bounded under my feet, perfectly camouflaged against the trees and dead leaves that covered the ground. I harkened back to winter walks when we were repeatedly thrilled by giant white jackrabbits that popped randomly out of the snow and led our dogs on fruitless chases across the prairie.

As I headed north again the sun finally overpowered the fog. Could it be that the grass was already turning green? Just a week ago the same path was impassable with snow and ice.

As I jogged under the new Memorial Bridge, a low hoot echoed above. Was it pigeons or the wind bouncing under the rafters? I wasn’t sure until I saw a chorus line of gray birds watching me intently from their high roost. Their numbers and formation were so impressive they could have been the Rockettes.

Another mile north, on higher ground, the fog returned thicker than before. I couldn’t even make out the nearest river bank. My brow was wet, not from sweat but from the mist of the fog. The sudden awareness that I was running in the clouds gave me a fresh rush of energy.

On the final stretch of my run, Mr. Golden Sun shined powerfully over the hills that flank the river. He was determined to suppress that stubborn fog. A grove of black trees stood proudly while the sun’s rays beamed behind them.

The reflection of the rays in the fog was brilliant, a dramatic contrast to the black trees. Those trees knew they were in the spotlight, and they loved it. This scene and the end of my run left me breathless.

Back at my car, I stretched and pondered the many surprising joys of the past hour by the river. When I stood up I almost couldn’t believe what I saw. There before me, spanning the river, was the grand finale: a full rainbow.

I felt like cheering, but stood instead in silence and admired the small miracle until it vanished.

Thank you Mother Nature, dear God, for such an amazing show.