“Is it safe?” Byron asked worriedly.
“Yeah. The real spring runoff ended a couple of weeks ago.” Jonah pointed to a water line on the concrete wall on the other side of the creek. They stepped aside when a group of bicyclists approached. “The reason this is called the bike path, but it’s perfectly okay for us to be down here too.”
Byron walked to the creek edge to sit on one of several large rocks. When Jonah took the one next to him, Byron said, “This is nice. It feels almost…private. Away from the noise of the city.” He was startled, but not too surprised, when an ambulance’s siren rent the air on the street above them. “Well, most of the noise anyway.”
“I think you’d have to live way up there—” Jonah pointed to the mountains, barely visible beyond the trees, “—in order to avoid sirens.”
“I could deal with that.”
“Me too. Every once in a while I consider packing it up and moving there. Maybe I will, when I retire.”
“Not that far off,” Byron pointed out.