HOBO HIKE

Picked a greenbelt on the map and put on my Chip Gaines fleece and beanie and dipped into a thicket hidden by a suburb and underpass. Found a flat-rock riverbed under a railroad bridge, with pools of water and patches of four-leaf clovers soaking in puddles. Spray can colors sparkled on the rusty bridge, psychedelic cartoons. We hiked by the railroad tracks, hands deep in our pockets like hobos, and a yellow lab cut back and forth along the fence like a quarter-horse, barking all over us like a gargoyle come to life. We settled back onto the trail, as the autumn haze, an amber halo, loomed over the horizon.