Chisholm Trail

One of the things I really like about where I live is the bike path just down the street. I wish we didn’t call it that. There are more walkers like me and joggers using it than bikers. But no matter what we call it, it’s a lovely place to pass the time. It runs about two miles each way down one side of the creek from Jack Carter Park to 15th Street and back up the other, though one last section on the right bank has been sitting incomplete for many years. It connects to a wider web of trails but I think the portion of the round trip I usually make is the most scenic in Plano. There are lots of families down there on sunny spring days. I’m surprised it isn’t more crowded than it is. I’ve been walking there for almost a quarter of a century, ever since I had a physical on the occasion of my fortieth birthday. My doctor told me I was eating too much, drinking too much, and not getting enough exercise. He prescribed a half hour walk every day at a brisk pace. Two miles should be about right. I took that part of his advice. I still eat and drink too much but I do the walk faithfully. Having a pretty place to do it has been a big help. The view is always changing depending on season or time of day, and I often stop to talk with friends, some of whom I rarely see otherwise. The best part is that walking leaves my mind free to do other things, like thinking about a crossword clue, maybe a more serious problem, or even what I’m going to do with my millions. I’m still waiting for my ship to come in. It’s late. I never liked running. It’s too painful, and I don’t really care for riding a bicycle. A while back I developed a sore foot and couldn’t walk so I tried the bike instead. My balance wasn’t that great and I was nervous in tight spaces, especially going under the bridges where visibility ahead is restricted by sharp turns. Most bikers are courteous and careful but occasionally they try to go too fast. One of my dearest friends was seriously injured several years ago trying to get out of the way so I don’t listen to music either. I want to be able to hear someone saying “on your left!” The little bicycle bells are no help at all. It takes me a moment to realize what I’ve heard and by that time the bicycle has gone by. In spring and fall we occasionally see an exotic duck or two. Usually we just have cormorants, egrets, gulls, mallards, a few blue herons and the ugliest flock of domestic ducks I ever did see. Last year a flight of Canadian geese paid a brief visit, the first in my memory. That’s just as well. My image of geese is they are mean and messy. For a long time we had domestic geese but they were aggressive and territorial. They were pests so someone finally got rid of them. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Spawning season for the fish is always exciting. They really make the water roil. Frankly I don’t understand it. External fertilization just doesn’t seem to be much to get that worked up about. Every year storms blow down a few hackberry trees and Parks and Rec plants new varieties. Once in a while the nutria chop down a sapling but wire wrappers prevent most of that. They’ve even put in a solar powered irrigation system. Each young tree has its own sprinkler. (I wonder if they are subject to the watering restrictions.) In fifty years we are going to have quite a forest down there. I can’t wait.