The perfectly blue sky after a midnight thunderstorm.
The sound of a gentle rain–not from clouds but rather from the two fountains in the pond.
A small tanker truck pumping maybe water out of the baseball dugout–EW! Nope, it’s pumping out the porta-potties behind the dugout.
The standing water on the low sides of the trail trying to escape into the already swampy grass; the footprints that I am following sunken into muddy middle.
The whistle blowing to start the football players on their down and back runs.
The metronome clucking the beat for the hundred drum majors learning a new cadence.
The encouraging high five from a friend and fellow jogger; the smile and “Good morning!” From a fellow walker who I only see during summer laps around the trail.
The pin pricks of pain on my calves from the sunny dry gravel that I kick up after walking through the shady wet gravel.
The buzzing chirps of the summer locusts, and my relief that it isn’t the din of the thirteen-year cicadas.
The startled caws of the crows as the grounds crew attempts to mow the swampy grass.
The drum majors practicing high steps and precise 90 degree turns.
The friendly wave from another groundskeeper making me feel welcomed and safe.
The gentle rain of the fountains framed by the perfectly blue sky.