week 33 // you are my wild

There's a creek that runs through the neighborhood behind our house.  It's a shade of brown that is reminiscent of YooHoo®, and the ducks lining the sandy shore appear to be a variety unlike any I've seen in suburbia or the country.  Dirty city ducks that coexist with fast food wrappers and discarded construction materials.  At sunset, we swing at the adjoining park, watch naughty little boys crawl across the big green pipe that stretches across the creek, and count the bats that we see darting around the orange and purple sky.  We catch fireflies as we watch the sun creep down below the high busy skyline.  There's a new breeze blowing through the pines and oaks now.  A new smell too.  The whiffs of cut grass and pool chemicals are less and less, and we may have even caught a hint of wood smoke on our walk home.  It's still 90 degrees during the day, but nights now require a sweater.  It's the start of the start of a changing season, and all of the city likes it.