It was an overcast late June day, the sun had decided to sleep in on this humdrum weekday, in the comfortable duvet of the fluffy grey clouds that blanketed the Dublin skyline. A light hazy mist hung low in the cold early morning air, over the Liffey river that snaked through this park where I found myself walking, half awake, and the other half still clinging on to the tresses of my dreams. A green Mallard solitarily waddled breaking through the mist, upstream, almost with an urgent purpose, leaving behind in it's wake an ephemeral whitish contrasting trail in the dark olive green water that staunchly rejected any light from penetrating it's contours. I continued on this narrow paved concreted path flanked by thick foliage of leafy green shady trees, long ferns that seemed alien to these climes, bushes, some harmless and others with pricklish tendencies, that sometimes invaded this man-made route; and, on the right, the Liffey, with a narrow sloping muddy, heavily grassed bank that at places played host to heavy rooted trees that arched over the banks and onto the river. Further down, two bachelor swans still slept on the right along the bank, under a large trunked densely creeper-ed tree, oblivious to the activity of dawn, their long necked profile snaked in tightly under their white left wing against the light and the chirping of other diurnal neighbors, almost as if rejecting the day, wishing for it to be cancelled. Seemingly these swan and the sun had a night out, a party with the moon and the prospect of this morning seemed a painful endeavor. A weeping willow, it's light yellowish green standing out starkly against the dark forest behind, draped cheerfully over the water on the far embankment, it's long pendulous branchlets flirting with the water swaying in the ever so light breeze that always seemed to travel with the river. A couple of swans with two little brown flappers in tow swam across the willow, the parents teaching survival and contentment to their eager little offspring, thier little tails wagging in the happiness of togetherness; A far-cry from the bachelor swans from earlier, this family had an early school night and were out and about early, in hope of meeting those friendly sapien acquaintances that visited with delectable white sugary bread, that always hit the spot. Dogs, spaniels - English and cockers with their innate sense of wondrous curiosity at even the mundane, a little dog of a breed unknown and strong individuality, an Alsatian who projected no characteristically expected ferociousness with almost a cow like calm demeanor and a heavy beautiful coat, a black Labrador - who seeked every little opportunity to jump into the water to fetch a branch, a ball, anything really for it was just a ruse, leaving trails of water wherever she went lapping away, drenched in happiness - all these canines featured along the walk, a deluge of rampant happy excitement in the serene calmness of the trail. A crane, stood firm along the path, to meet these furry friends, for they met every morning, an interesting courteous little rendezvous that had the writer curious. The only sounds were of small little humming birds fluttering through the foliage restlessly, zipping in and out of the flowering bushes, their chirping following them on this zigzagged trajectory, reflecting against branches and echoing in this natural chamber of trees, complemented with the ever so slight hum of the water as it rustled along the deep jagged river bed; the tranquility of the surroundings was contagious, and even the sky, grey, threatening of a downpour, seemed subdued, relaxed, unmoving, in almost a meditative state. Even the restless mind caught onto the calmness and refrained from dwelling into the futilities of the future and assessments of the past, and just concentrated on this walk, every moment, every step, seeing actually, hearing really, observing. As I sauntered back I saw again the bachelor swans, now having accepted the reality of the morning, entered slowly into the water, judging the temperature on the tip of their webbed palmates, dunking into the water continuously in a practiced manoeuvre, splashing water on to their curved pearly contours,a leisurely bath to prepare for the adventures of the day, as I to braced myself to enter the concrete realities of the nine to five.
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