Magnificent formations of white cumulus hang over the foothills, mountains in the sky above mountains of the land. Though the town is full of parents and siblings for graduation ceremonies, there are few cars at the gated end of Upper Park.
I had intended to take a sitting at a secluded spot at the upper end of Lower Park, but why meditate in a hole when you can meditate in paradise? In nearly two hours, only half dozen people pass by on the path behind me.
After half hour, I hear a voice across the gorge above the roar of the stream below. It’s a young man with a cell phone plastered to his ear walking up the canyon.
A half hour later he walks back, still talking