This Bit There

We don't live in the land of rock solid bridges, but you can find a fair few in the countryside standing on shoulders of stone. The overhead crossing will go through a good few iterations, wood rotted and replaced, but down below stays much the same through the decades. I never tire of the strange signature in putting this bit here, this bit there. A game of real life Tetris with heavy objects — do it just right, and it'll outlive you. Maybe this old abutment has done just that, been in place long enough that no one involved in the construction still exists. Whatever the case, I guess I'm just here to hide from the sun. Down where Fales River kicks a breeze enough to blow the bugs away, and I can find shade still rare in spaces slow to spread their leaves. The woods takes a stubborn turn to green, but the passionate explosion of life is finally in full swing. Give it another week or two, and it'll be almost indistinguishable from summer. What a very long wait it was.

May 14, 2025
Truro, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6394 of my daily journal.