You’re taking a break from the world of long stories, but not the world of short musings.
You’re on a North Shore nature path and you wonder why you think of it as “Dead Duck Trail.” It’s your own name for this spot. Ah, yeah: years ago, you saw the remains of a duck under a tree there. With a self-satisfied hawk in the branches, stifling a burp.
We probably all have our quirky names for places. Once you saw a guy lying in the grass alongside Ridge Road. You slowed to ask if he was OK. “Just sleepin,” he said with a smile. Now you think of that quiet stretch of Ridge as “Sleeping Man Road.”
There’s a plaza in town where you’ve enjoyed afternoons on a bench eating an ice cream cone. You think of that spot as “Ice Cream Square.” When discussing this craziness, friends say they do it, too. We’re not in the official business of naming places around the North Shore.
But that doesn’t stop us from remembering them in our own way. And isn’t that the same thing?
This column was adapted by Mike Lubow from his book: Wild Notes: Observations over time about birds and other fleeting things. Available on amazon.com.