Glen Park Canyon - where the city falls off.

This park may be one of those well-kept secrets. Although I lived 2 blocks away some years ago and visited often, this was my first trip back in many years.
In some ways it's quite extraordinary because of the sneaky way it hides itself away - right in the middle of everything urban. Within a small area of perhaps a half square mile lie glorious Willow, Cedar, towering Eucaliptus, looping trails, reedy streams and even slightly daunting, rocky escarpments. Nimble, mating Damsel flies, buttery waterlillies and legions of song birds, hummingbirds and Red-Tailed hawks bombard the senses. On the east ridge tidy, unassuming homes dangle precariously over the canyon like freeway dead zones or hip, architectural statements. Nice.

That fighting spirit must still linger on

Two hundred or so years of military types buried here (Presidio Cemetery) and some quite interesting history behind San Francisco's warriors I'm sure. I'm meandering between the perfect lines of white stones and reading names of Cavalry Captains and Major Generals and Lt. Major Generals poking up through  blades of regulation-length grass, like marching emerald Lilliputian bayonets. It doesn't seem to even trigger a moments thought in the breeze-ruffled brain of bouncy Robins focused more on a tasty bug dinner.