We’re bad about getting our car serviced on schedule. We don’t drive it enough, they say. So rather than waiting for the odometer to reach such-and-such a mileage, we’re prompted to bring it in after so many months, and we’re always late. But it’s always fun dropping it off at B&B Automotive and walking over to Seneca Park, either across the river or down one of the paths that parallel it. The car is always ready by the time we return.
We walked down John Gilmore’s street on our way to the park and stopped in front of his house, thinking of him. It was all closed up, with no sign of life other than the rabbit sitting on his front lawn.
We were in the park at eight this morning, so the zoo wasn’t open when we got there. There is a window in the fence by the giraffe enclosure, but they were all looking inside this morning while workers cleaned their area. Farther down we could see the elephants. Two seemed to be having a conversation while they scooped up dirt with their trunks and threw it onto their undersides. Another was being kept in a small fenced-in area. About an hour later, as we were walking back from the other side of the lake, we could hear what sounded like an elephant having an orgasm.
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So, An Elephant Explosion?