I felt impelled to get up to the boardwalk today and connect with “my people.” I’m so glad I listened to my intuition. Today’s sojourn to Bellingham brought pups, new friends, boats, and a way cool heron eating his breakfast in a tree.

As I drove up Chuckanut to Bellingham, I passed a young man walking along the side of the road with a bedroll. I debated stopping to offer him a ride, but, in the end, kept going. (He will enter into this post later.)

I drove to Boulevard Park and started my walk there. I hadn’t even reached the trail when I found my first new pup friend, little Stuart. Stuart is still a youngster, and is a little shy – but he gathered his courage and came up to me for a sniff and a pet. Stuart’s courage in approaching me, totally melted my heart.

When I passed over the first section of boardwalk, I glanced up at the tree where I sometimes see a heron perched, and saw something I don’t think I’ve ever seen before: the heron was there, and he had his wings sort of tucked underneath him. A couple of other people stopped to watch with me – they were pretty fun. One of them imitated the heron with her arms and said the heron was doing yoga. I moved to the other side of the heron to get a better shot with my camera and saw that the heron’s gullet seemed to be moving something down it. The woman who’d imitated the heron said she’d seen it with a fish in its beak earlier, and we all guessed that we were watching the heron eat his breakfast.

Not long after my stop for the heron, I met pups, Buddy and Phoenix – I could tell they were good friends. We use the word “humanity” when we talk about kindness, but I’m thinking maybe we could also use the word “canineity.” These canine buddies moved along next to each other in sweet concord.

And then little Bella appeared. Her humans told me Bella was scared of the edges of the boardwalk, but she was very brave in approaching me and letting me give her a pet. Before I moved on, I saw Bella move past her fears, and peek over the edge of the boardwalk.

After my walk, I stopped into Wood’s for a lavender green iced tea. Jessi was there, stocking the shelves and tidying up, and she gave me a shout out when she saw me walk in. The woman in front of me in line had a beautiful tattoo on her arm – the face in her tattoo actually looked like her, I thought. I learned her name was Jess – and Jess graciously agreed to let me get a photo.

I’d been keeping my eyes on a schooner in the bay – I love schooners! – watching for it to unfurl its sails. Just before I left, I saw that it had its sails fully unfurled and snapped some quick pictures.

I loaded my tea, camera, knapsack, and self into my car and headed for Chuckanut. Just after I’d passed the place where people park to go to Teddy Bear Cove, I came upon the young man with the bedroll again. He looked really tired. I’m guessing he’d hiked three or four miles since I’d last seen him.

Once again, I debated stopping to offer him a ride, and, once again, I kept going. I drove four or five miles past him, before I pulled off into a parking lot and stopped my car. The thought that came to me was, “That young man is someone’s son.” And then, “I hope someone would stop for my sons if they needed a ride.” And then suddenly, in my mind, that young man wasn’t just someone’s son, he was my own. I mean. He wasn’t REALLY my own, but he felt like my own son in that moment. I decided to turn around and, if I found him, I’d offer him some apple juice and snack bars I keep in my car for people who might need that. I wasn’t sure, yet, if I’d feel comfortable offering him a ride. I’d save that decision for after I met him.

I drove back along Chuckanut, looking for him, and finally spotted him. I found a place to pull over, rolled down my window, and asked him if he’d like some juice. He nodded his head and crossed the street to me and said, “That’d be great. Thank you.” He had beautiful blue eyes, and there was kindness in them. My mother’s heart reached out to him, and I asked him if I could give him a ride. He said that would be good – told me he was headed for the downtown.

So I moved things around in my car – apologized to him for the mess – and made room for him. He got in, and I headed for Waypoint Park near the bike course. I learned my new friend’s name was Logan, that he’d started his journey in Colorado, and that he’d grown up in Bellingham. He had people there who were expecting him.

When we got to Waypoint Park, I parked and got out of the car to say good bye. “Are you going to be alright?” I asked, and he nodded and smiled. Then he reached out an arm for a hug. Every mother will understand what that meant to me.

Thank you, Life, for all good things – for puppies and herons, schooners on the bay, and kind people.