"Like a snow globe!" Caren Jew observes, as we see midges dancing in a sunbeam ahead of us on the trail. "Or a colloidal suspension!" She immediately disclaims any other recollections from chemistry class.
"How about anions and cations?" I ask. "Those show up in crosswords all the time." Caren concedes.
We're on the Seneca Creek Greenway Trail, heading toward to the Rt 355 parking lot where we began the out-and-back journey at 2:30pm. Last night's 1.5" rain has left muddy bogs in low-lying parts of the path, but for the most part it's well-drained and quite runnable. Caren's assignment is to do 2 hours 10 minutes, and we hit it almost on the nose, with 1:03 outbound to Brink Rd and 1:08 for the return.
Buff young runners race by us both ways. Caren tries to incite me to pursue a fast lady, but I demur; she steps aside for a shirtless gentleman to pass. I overuse the word misremember and struggle, typically male, to come up with the name of the color of Caren's shirt. After many minutes: "Ha! Fuchsia!" I crow. Caren reminisces about past conversations on the trail and we marvel at how some memories lodge deep—different ones for different people.
(cf. 2009-05-31 - Schaeffer Farms, ...) - ^z - 2009-10-01