However, did I mention 60°F !? I couldn't resist. Whenever I take chances, I think about the odds of a bad thing occurring. Yep. I hide out in the safety of statistics. There are lots of trees, but not that many that could fall across a trail I might take at the exact day and time I happen to be strolling by. Plus I'm a moving target! It would take some seriously bad luck for me to get hit by a branch, let alone a whole tree.
I made it to the reservoir unscathed and started walking around the perimeter. Above me was a heavenly mix of blue sky and white clouds. The wind wasn't so harsh in the sun. A t-shirt, a fleece jacket, and a hoodie kept me the perfect temperature for walking. I let my hood down and put on my sunshades. I looked for a break in the stream of jogging stroller moms, runners, and dog-walkers. Let the strolling begin.
It's .56 miles around the main reservoir, which has two side-by-side cells. I don't know how deep these two pools are, but they used to hold a good portion of Portland's drinking water, so I can safely say there are millions of gallons in each reservoir. I aim for five times around and settle for four, most days, depending on how long my bladder holds out. I thought I might be able to make five laps, if I didn't lollygag. As I waited for a break in the traffic, I looked out across the wind-riled water glinting in the afternoon sun. Below me, a line of waterlogged tennis balls hugged the near shore, held by little wind-driven waves.
Today I hadn't gone more than 20 yards when I was brought up short by a puzzling sight. Bobbing at the edge of the water, just barely submerged, was the lifelike head of a white horse.
At first, my brain stuttered as it tried to figure out what I was seeing. Was it, could it possibly be, no, no way could this be real. Where was the blood and sinews? Where was the gore? I've seen enough CSI: Name your City to imagine what a submerged dead animal might look like. This odd flotsam had definitely never been alive. Judging by its condition, my guess would be rubbery molded white plastic.
And what's more, it was not just a horse. I finally noticed between its two charming ears the horn sticking out of its forehead. Oh my, this was the head of a unicorn. Whoa. Not how I expected to see my first unicorn.
I took a picture of it with my cell phone and kept on walking. Five times I passed the unicorn head. Each time I neared its location, I watched to see if anyone else had noticed it. Little clumps of people would stop to marvel, take a picture, and move on. When I got home I Googled “unicorn head in reservoir” but didn't get much, although I did see images of unicorn heads that you can buy online. Yikes, why would you buy a unicorn head? Apparently people hang them on the walls in their daughters' rooms. Here you go, honey. I bagged that unicorn you've been bugging me about since you were five. Is it just me, or is that creepy?
When I walk I have lots of time to think about things. However, I rarely reach any decisions or figure anything out. And I am relieved to report I don't rely on magical creatures like unicorns and other sparkly higher powers to rescue me. Because that poor old drowned unicorn is not going to be rescuing anyone. I can just imagine some female adolescent furiously heaving the head over the iron railing into the water. I wanted a pony, not a severed unicorn head, dammit!
Meanwhile, yada yada. Life goes on, death creeps closer, the bank account dwindles, and winter returns tomorrow. Spring is great, but it never lasts.
