Picnic table in field of some kind of yellow flowers

The other day I was running on the surprising hidden paths between Harrison and Riverside down by Carnegie Lake and I passed by this common picnic table in the woods, surrounded by a field of little yellow flowers. I don't think they were dandelions. It was pretty beautiful, and my mind flew to Russia, the endless expanses of woods and fields, which don't look to be nearly as crazily polluted as they are to the naked eye. There's an incredible sense of frontier in a place where they've been farming for nearly a millenium, all because they've never had enough money to develop it, to heat it in particular.

Heading home, on the other side of Harrison, by the old stoney bridge in the deeply wooded area, a Japanese couple slumber in the reclined front seats of their racing green late-model Civic, their windows open in the mild air, with groceries in the back seat. I shoulda reached right in and stolen their big bag of BBQ Fritos. Mmmm.