On Easter Sunday, G and I went for a walk along the Bosque to the Rio Grande Nature Center. Every 30 seconds we were passed by bicyclists and joggers. Clouds filled the sky, the wind blew in warm gusts, the geese honked continuously. There were so many kinds of green: the muddy green of the river, the pale dusty green of the invasive Russian olive, the tender bright green of the cottonwoods, interspersed with bright red hanging seeds and flying cotton. As we walked across the bridge, we saw two geese and four goslings marching along the bank of a muddy island. The goslings were brown-yellow-green fuzzballs. They stretched out stubby wings, and then took turns dropping off the bank and floating in the backwater before scrabbling back onto land. We were absorbing the cuteness when a young couple rode by and the girl said, "Hey, there's Uncle G!" She turned around to say hi, and she too was absorbed by the sight of the avian family below. But only for a minute.
Onward to the Nature Center. The native plant garden was blooming, and we eventually found the Scorpion Flower, which I had been trying to identify for some time. I counted 41 turtles basking in the sun on the log by the Center, and G found a lark, with its bandit mask. But, it was around mid-day, and hot, and most of the birds were hiding in the shade.
On our way back along the backwater, we saw a huge swirling cloud of dust, like a mini-tornado. "Dust devil," said G. "Wow!" said I. We watched as it lifted a 4-foot tumbleweed straight up, over a mile into the air, where the dust ceased. The tumbleweed continued to fly up and over us, until we couldn't see it any more. It probably ended up in Oz.
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