Communing with my Favorite Sycamore

One of the many perks of living on this lovely back road in New Paltz is easy access to the Wallkill Valley Rail Trail.  This evening Carol and I walked to one of our favorite spots on the trail.  We named this our "Duck Walk" some years ago when we observed some migrating mallards resting for the evening in the creek at the base of the tree.  Understand that this is less than a mile from our humble home.  It is remarkable to me that I haven't traversed this path for more than a year.  I truly don't recall the last time.

Perhaps I'm musing about this because I will be having surgery tomorrow.  I've had an endoscopy before, several in fact, but this time the result will be removal of a portion of the Barrett's Esophagus that exists just above my stomach.  I don't know what to expect and that bothers me at a level below normal nervousness.  My intellectual self (I really have one) says it's a simple procedure, no worries.  But... my other self, the one that writes, takes photos, dreams, sings, acts, ain't so sure.  I keep remembering a statement made by the last surgeon I met, forty years ago, who said "There's no such thing as 'minor surgery'."  I want this to be no big deal.  I hope it is.

Let's get back to the rail trail:  here's a shot of the field just south of the creek.

If one continues south on the trail, one arrives in Gardiner, a lovely hamlet with a cute little bistro and a great pizza parlor.  Further yet is Wallkill; I haven't biked that far yet, but it's on my list.  North will lead all the way to Kingston once the trestle over the Rondout Creek is resurfaced, also on my list.  I just also got an email about a five-borough bike ride in May that I can do for Doctors Without Borders - maybe I will.

This place, my people, are treasures.  I sometimes forget that.