My Blood is Full of Ancient Bodies Swimming

It was 28 degrees when Silas and I began our hike at Canoe Creek State Park this morning. I want to get a lay of the land since I'll be running a half marathon there in April (hahahaha). We didn't encounter a single soul on the trail besides two hunters (I hate encountering hunters because I feel like such an intrusion).

Canoe Creek was once a limestone quarry. Several kilns still stand today for rememberance and even dilapidated remains stand on a less-populated trail.

The park itself is named after the main tributary stream (Canoe Creek) that feeds the lake and exits from two dams to eventually join the Frankstown Branch of the Juniata River.

The other tributary stream is called Mary Ann's Creek.

The snow and glaze of ice we encountered of course depended on the hillside. The mud that I'm so used to was frozen-over and I'm happy to report that Silas got back into my car at the end without a lick of mud on him. He did begin to accumulate snowballs around his toes which made me very uneasy because Silas isn't a complainer. But when he ran ahead of me just so he could sit with his front paw up off the ground, I decided to cut the hike short after pulling them off his toes. I was prepared for the hike but of course forgot his booties, so we only hiked five miles. Speaking of prepared, I tried my NANOspikes for the first time today and they were a game-changer.

Walked on wet ice, dry ice, ice covered in snow, ice covered in leaves, ice covered in pebbles, stones covered in ice, wet stones, stones covered in frozen mud, mud covered in ice, puddles covered in ice, thin sheets of ice, invisible layers of ice, all the ice. Get it?

[Ugh. Looking at the above picture makes me sad for my little-right-foot-that-could. If you compare it to my left foot, you can tell that it bears more weight to the right instead of being flat on the ground. Makes me sad and it's painful but it's forever.]

All and all, it was a good, peaceful hike. Well, kind of peaceful? You see, I try to do a lot of listening when hiking. But Silas scares all the birds away and I'm not exactly a light-footed hiker. So, besides talking to Silas, I've noticed lately that I've been repeating the following folk lyric in my head the past week:

"The water's full of naked bodies swimming" -Mountain Man's "Rang Tang Ring Tune"

Whether I'm walking the dogs, running to the library, or riding my bike, I'm moving my body to the beat of this song and specifically this lyric. Here's the really weird video that goes with it. Mountain Man is a great band.

And the thing is, the lyric evolves as I go. It becomes poetry, in a sense, as my mind keeps the beat but the words blur into slant rhyme. So, "The water's full of naked bodies swimming" turns into:

The water's full of ancient bodies swimming.

My blood is full of naked bodies swimming.

My blood is full of ancient bodies swimming.

My body's full of naked bodies swimming.

My body's full of ancient, bloody swimming.

The brain's a weird thing. So, when you start doing slant rhyme while hiking up a mountain, it might mean that you need to go home and eat. Or write a poem.

I ate. Dinner was my weirdo rendition of pho. Ginger broth, pork (cooked in onions and ginger), green onions (I love onions), more ginger (I love ginger), kale (because the store didn't have bok choi), cauliflower rice (instead of noodles), hard boiled egg, cilantro, sweet chili sauce, and jalapeños.

Good stuff. I've been eating way too many jalapeños and I might be creating a stomach ulcer. What should I name it?

And this was dessert.

I just took what I had around the house and made a cocktail out of it. I call it "It's Morning Somewhere". It's an iced coffee/liqueur blend with a caramel glaze and whatnot.