Morning light just right. Cloudy, but in that milky way that warns you'd better take the shot before that sun boils it away and ruins everything. I've been meaning to snap a pic of that caboose on the tracks along SW Kent. Light's been wrong too many Saturdays. Too hard. Earlier, it'd be too low, in my eye. Later, too high. Figured the tracks should glow silver this morning.
Only go this way Saturday morns now, for groceries. On weekends, early, Kent's quieter than Marine Drive. Later on weekends, of course and weekdays, Kent can be as frustrating as any busy urban road: people in a hurry, the politest phrase for them, these who've ducked those other people in a hurry who've chosen to keep to Marine Drive.
I've always preferred Kent, tho, as in liked Kent. Kent meanders, follows the river; a river I'm very fond of, industrialized and siltbrown tho it is, six hundred miles from its Rocky Mountains green source. Kent's efficient, as roads go. It's like an old track, paved where truck traffic required it paved, and built for the mills and such down here along the river. People in a hurry to be elsewhere leave where Kent ends, west and east, head up into the city. But Kent doesn't seem to end where it shows on the map. The railway stretches on, for one. Walkers have worn trails alongside the track. Footpaths disappear in forest.
One thing I saw today, the other thing: driving has its drawbacks when it's photo'snapping I'm wanting. Gotta park the thing...somewhere...out of traffic. I'm much more agile on that bike. I'll be back.
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