Sunday sunset

The street lights blinked and blinked and blinked and then came full-on to light our path.

It was all about the sky this evening.

Yes, the dogs were excited and pointed at everything - neighbors, cats, walkers, more cats. Dogs do not wonder at the sky or the clouds that remain after the storms.

But the sky and the clouds were lovely, compelling really. We walked with the sun setting to our backs.So, when the dogs stopped to sniff, I turned around and gazed on the rose and orange, yellow and blue  to the west.

While the street was a speedway, the park was quiet. A few futbol players were still practicing on the damp fields. Young lovers were flirting in the parking lot. Young families were finishing picnics. A sister and three brothers left the ice cream stand holding cups filled high with soft-serve. They were the end of summer personified in their red, orange, yellow and green shirts bright in the rapidly dimming light.

I noticed the rain lilies' scent first (slightly, lightly sickly sweet) and then saw them just up and blooming in groups here and there at the edge of the curb and in the low spots where the water runs. They are the flowers most often spied by the little ones and presented clutched in a grubby hand, child - face beaming. They made me smile as we walked along - as I noticed the bright yellow/orange of the ragweed that has made us all miserable for weeks. It is standing tall - mocking me at the edge of the woods where the manicured fields run across to meet the brambles.

We wandered to the pavilion for a drink of water and surprised the park cat who was snacking on the detritus of weekend meals under the florescent lights.

The dogs paid no attention to me with my container of cool water, the lure of the park cat was too great. They strained at the lead, turning again and again to try and approach her.  And she stood her ground. She waited us out.

We wandered back home to find the neighbors we had visited with on our way down to the park had moved inside...Mohawk dog's mom had finished giving the gang their Sunday baths. The folks in the green house on the corner had abandoned the porch where they had been enjoying the slight breeze and mild fall twilight.

And there was no sign of the enemy. We had cautiously passed its house noticing the gate standing wide-open. Perhaps the enemy is gone now, but we prepare ourselves whenever we reach that block of our walk. One never knows who or what will come out of the darkness. Perhaps it was that cricket chorus again that set our nerves on edge as we left the park. That eerie sound  began as we entered the park and continued as we left...increasing in volume as if to prepare us for the monster to come, or the enemy that did not come.

The clouds and sky were lovely tonight.

Water rushing down the streets

We awoke to pouring rain. When it slowed to a sprinkle I grabbed the only umbrella I could find and one pup. I thought it would be better to struggle with one dog at a time on the rain-slick sidewalk. The weather started and stopped, sprinkled and poured on us. As Padimus chased down stray smells, my mind wandered back 45 years or so.

I remember Mom letting us use her big black umbrella to walk down the sidewalk at 1020. Sometimes we would walk around the block, balancing on the wide curbs or splashing through the puddles.

As I watched the water run along the curbs, down the streets and rush noisily into the mouths of the storm drains I thought about riding my bike through the few inches of rain accumulating in the church parking lot or at Dave Odem school. And sometimes I would drag my feet as I rode along - skimming the top of the water and splashing  - and sometime misjudging the depth of a puddle just enough to catch a splinter of glass or sticker burr.

The rain began again in earnest and we headed home. We will all need a good long walk tomorrow with fewer distractions and musings...but there will be water in the creeks and low places in the park tempting a few splashes...

Me and the man

Too many smells distracted the babes. I wanted to hustle, but they did not.

Only Escalade man in the park.

The insects had built a wall of sound - the constant droning like the music of a scary movie just before all gets quiet and the monster pounces. Every now and again a cricket would break free of the wall and sing out against the chant.




The Count:
No rooster...someone probably rung his neck
24 cars, but I think I counted #9 more than once

I am not a cowboy

[Should I mention that pet ownership is like parenthood? You already know this. I know this. But I have never lost sleep like I did last night. Parents know that sometimes it isn't WHAT you hear, but what you DON'T hear. Last night I didn't hear Scruff's barks - he is Sir Barksalot. He always barks at least a little. If he is especially vocal I will bring him in to give all of us some peace. I woke last night to silence (3:30). Had I seen the dogs when I arrived home late? Had I heard them before I went to bed? I fretted a bit, but then fell back asleep for another few hours. Was it the headache? Was it the anxiety-filled few weeks of work that overflowed into my home life? Whatever. Dogs were waiting for me at the gate (inside, thankfully) for our walk.]

This day was as humid as yesterday, but a little hazy - with a slight breeze. We could see the stars but they glowed ringed with slight misty halos.

Paddy and Scruffy were determined to get to the park as quickly as possible. We lost no time except for the complete halt in the middle of the street to sniff at something. My dogs do not worry about the speeding - late for work- vehicles I notice every morning.

They did stop and stare into the darkness more than once. They have repeated this over the past couple of days. I have wondered what they saw in the darkness. Deer? No. The fox? No. The ghosts of old settlers or deer and fox of the past? Nothing of substance appeared (and these silly guys will start at a plastic bag fluttering or Styrofoam cup rolling in the breeze) and so we moved along.

We arrived at the park in time to see David already walking, Escalade Man arrive to start his slow and steady run, and Bobby zipping in for his walk. That was enough company for us to feel comfortable for a walk into the park (in the dark), extending our walk by about a quarter mile and allowing a trip to the drinking fountain.

And there she was - the park cat.

We have missed the park cat. She has been absent (from our view) for some weeks. We know she is a clever - wily creature. She has survived for years through drought and flood, hard freezes and hellacious summers. We felt sure she was around somewhere. But it is always good to give her a nod as we walk along.

We gave her a wide berth (no need to give her a fright) and arrived at the fountain sans drinking dish. Often we have DH's empty coffee cup. Today we had nothing. And there was no discarded cup or bottle on the ground. And I am not a cowboy. I had no hat to lift water to my horses.

But, I did have a dog bag.

I wondered.

Eureka!  These lovely, sturdy, park provided bags work like a charm to water two very thirsty pups.

We headed home and had only two heart-pounding moments along the street.

The first occurred as a neighborhood cat ran past exciting the dogs to no end. They whined and fretted when I refused to allow them to give chase.

The second was the moment we neared Mohawk dog's house. A loud gruff bark came out of the darkness to remind us that dogs live there - big beautiful dogs with lovely voices. The headlights of a car stopped at the intersection lit up our friends milling around their yard.

Then home.

Dark and humid Monday

Dark and humid, humid, humid...

The rooster crowed and crowed.

David visited in the park. We spoke of foxes. He asked my name.

The dogs stopped and stared into the woods. They watched and waited, but nothing appeared.

They lost interest and we went home.


The Count:

17 cars
one rooster crowed over and over and over again
2 dogs barked
Running man ran by
One other walker in the park

Daylight walk - thoughts of "Faster Daddy, faster!"

Dried mud with tracks (deer and maybe dog) at beginning of the dirt track

The pups and I have been walking in  the dark lately. It is fall and the sun is late. And we do not have time to wait for the sunrise.

We have seen neighbors picking up their newspapers. We have missed the singing birds (few sing in the dark). The only "wildlife" were the few cats seen wandering home after their nights out.

We have avoided the park as we do not walk there alone - in the dark. We only walk in far enough to drop trash in the closest garbage can and then turn for home.

But today was Saturday and, finally, we had the opportunity to walk in the light. We dawdled a bit as all the sights and sounds and smells of the day distracted. But the traffic was constant and fast. Where were these people going?

A few things have changed in the neighborhood. Some folks have started decorating for Halloween. And the crows and grackles add to the holiday feel...black birds...we just needed a few black cats...

When we reached the park we realized our error - we had waited too late to walk. It was not yet 8, but the park was teaming with ball players. Cars were turning into the park from the east and west. We waited and waited for our turn to cross our road into the park, all the while wondering where we would walk.

We noticed one car make a U-turn and leave the park. The dog owner inside (two cute dogs peered at us through the windshield) must have thought better of her idea of a walk in the park on this day.

So we decided to try the dirt road. But we didn't want anyone to see us head that direction. We don't want to invite trouble...followers or what have you. Still the traffic did not abate and we gave up. We would take our walk and take our chances - watching for unwanted company as we went along.


At the beginning of the dirt track we could see the mud (from the rain of two weeks ago) had finally dried.. The road was dry - and wrecked. A large vehicle attempted the road before it was safe to do so. Huge ruts reminded me of the times I had been out in the wilderness with my dad...we always wanted him to drive fast down those rugged roads. We got stuck a few times too. "Faster Daddy, faster!" echoed in my head as the pups and I picked our way through the rougher places.

Torn up road 

Deep ruts in the dirt road

We immediately noted purple/pink wildflowers across the meadows. These were new - a bright by-product of the rains. I debated trying to identify them from memory and picked a few instead. I have at least three wildflower books, but they are of no use if I cannot remember the details of the plants. And my photos are often too blurry to be of any use. [Flowers were duly identified at home - see below]

I was planning on harvesting wafer ash seeds and cuttings anyway. I brought clippers and a bag so that I could bring home the plant materials needed to propagate this delightful tree. [Watch this space in the spring to see if we had any success.]

Purple Gerardia ( Agalinis purpurea)

More Purple Gerardia

The dew was still on the grass and glimmering on the spider webs throughout the fields. They were mostly tiny weavings holding together the seed heads of the grasses.

At the edge of the park the raw cuts on the mulberry tree showed where it was badly pruned. But I scarcely had time to mourn or curse when the oldest child drove up and stopped. She offered to carry the clippings home to free up my hands for the rest of the walk.

We hurried home - too many projects were waiting for us. Some might even be accomplished before this weekend was over.

Rain and rain and rain...and now "delicious" weather

It started raining Thursday and I pulled the pups into the house (actually they pulled me). Then we walked for a few minutes on Friday morning trying to somehow fit between the raindrops. We walked again a bit later in a light sprinkle. I used an umbrella - dogs got wet.

Rain continues in the forecast for what seems like days and days. We are so glad to see the water, but it makes "getting out for a stretch" almost impossible.

We woke today to muddy muddy yards, but dry streets and sidewalks. We dressed quickly and tried to remember all the gear we needed. We often forget one thing or another when we have not made the long walk in a while. The early dark and then rain have conspired to make us slackers if not lay-a-beds.

The  air was crisp and cool. This is weather my mother would call "delicious."

The walk was uneventful. Cars sped up and down the street. We saw the cat man's cat at a house up the street from its former haunt. Perhaps it only snacked with the cat man. Whatever the case, we were glad to see a new home and not observe the futile waiting for a breakfast that will not - can not come.

We noted the heavy limbs of the oaks and pecans - a relief after the drought and famine of last year. Some trees are leaning and others have fallen, their shallow roots giving way to the weight of fruit and rain.

Altheas of all colors are primed to explode into bloom. Oxblood lilies are blooming all around - and just peeking above the earth outside my back door.

Oxblood lilies coming up after the rain

 

Purple leather flower seeds...

 

Althea

Althea

Acorns - it will be a big harvest this year

Pecans in the park

Afraid of the dark?

Yes.

I could end there.

We are trying to get back to our regular early walks, but suddenly it is dark when we want to start. And it stays dark through the entire walk.

It was cool and Orion was high in the sky.

But, there were no birds starting to sing. There were no brilliant sunrises.

The stars were shining brightly. The sliver of a moon lit up the wispy clouds circling it.

But the darkness all around us seemed feral.

We had forgotten the noises and shadows of early morning walks.

We turned around at the entrance of the empty park. We listened to the crash and bang and clank of the garbage truck emptying dumpsters. We heard the roar and thunk, thunk, thunk of the early morning  train. We wondered at the dogs barking - how close were they? Were they loose?

And we jumped at our own shadows and tripped on uneven spots in the sidewalk.

We know we will adjust to our walks once again, but today...

We edged away from the last few openings of storm sewer in the last few blocks before home. Padimus hates these "mouths" of this secret system of tunnels, full of wild cats and bad smells and nightmares.

Was it our imagination? Did we feel the hot breath of earth as we passed?

The Adventure

"It's only an adventure when things get really messed up." - James P. Finn


 

We finally had the time and opportunity and weather to walk.  A "norther" blew into town dropping temps well below the hundreds of the last week and I was able to talk DH into joining us on a walk to the park.

The park was full of other happy folks enjoying the cooler weather (although it is ridiculous to say  that 80s are "cool"). The sounds of baseball - the ring of the bat, the voices of announcers, and the cheers of the crowd.greeted us as we arrived at the park.

We relaxed, having just been startled on our way down the hill when we found the enemy's gate was open. Fortunately there was no enemy to be seen. We had a few tense moments and sharp words about that open gate.

Happy as the sounds from the baseball fields were, we decided to avoid the crowds and walk down the dirt track.

About half-way down DH commented on a tennis shoe track, "someone has already been here today."

We arrived in the far meadow and let the dogs follow a few trails before we heard a voice call, "Are you from up the hill? I realize I am trespassing." There he was, coming out of the chest high grass, a stranger, clutching something to his chest.

The man was a little older than us, brown from the sun and he quickly explained how he was taking photos of deer along the brush line. He had put out corn and placed an automatic camera there, timed for 4 a.m.

I told him I thought that was a little late to be catching the deer and we all walked back down the road together.

His name is Steve (and yes, I have his license plate number and vehicle description).

We picked up one of Sissy and Dewayne's dog training tools left behind in the field at the front of the park and headed home.

Half way home, as we tried to be responsible dog owners (we forgot our plastic bags and had to snag some in the park), we noticed a truck stop for what appeared no reason. Then we saw it, a utility line down across the road.

We stepped back into a yard well away from the wire and called the local police. We identified ourselves and told the dispatcher we would wait.

Then a woman came out of the house at the corner and yelled over to me, "I have no power." Great - it was an electric line.

Finally the troops arrived, a police car and firetruck.

The long lines of traffic behind the firetruck.

 

Hope no one got too close to that power line.

After briefing the police, DH and I walked one street over to avoid the wires and make sure we missed any of the traffic that would soon build up as the emergency responders figured out what to do.

We made it home. The lights were on. It was time for chores.

Frogs and toads

We saw some baby toads hopping across our path in our park a few weeks ago and again at the river last week.

We have heard the frogs croaking in the depths of the woods where the creek keeps a few deep puddles after a rain.

We heard them singing each night from the fishing pond and along the banks of the river.

But we do not see them enough. We do not hear them enough.

We read that they are missing - victims of climate change and habitat destruction.

Today I went to the backyard, braving the wild things, to fill the galvanized water pales we use for the pups. We treat the water with bacteria cakes to kill the mosquitoes. We try to keep the water clean - clear of twigs and leaves. The menaces in the backyard are rough with their water. They jump in. They "dig" it up. They splash it all over and generally make a mess. It always looks disgusting - even immediately after we clean things out (as they jump right in).

As I gingerly approached Scruff's water - attempting to avoid a slip in the mud he has made - I laughed at the sight of a toad swimming in the tub. He did not appear frantic, but he was clearly unable to exit.

The dogs alert on anything in my hand, hoping a treat is about to be presented. So I decided it was better that I did not pick up the croaker. That rescue might prove fatal.

I filled the tub until he was able to pull himself out of the water and hop on his way.

Here are the views - sorry about the flash.

Some links:
http://www.sustainer.org/dhm_archive/index.php?display_article=vn776frogsed

 http://www.healthyplace.com/alternative-mental-health/sageplace/where-have-all-frogs-gone/

 http://armi.usgs.gov/

zen of the barn

Walk:
My walk today was back and forth from table to kiln, kiln to slab roller, slab roller to table. In between there were trips to the sink.

Wedging:

I have not wedged clay in months. I felt it, feel it, and will continue to feel it in my neck and arms - good pain.

Assembly line:

63 doves are nearing completion.

Final count:
14 extra doves drying
7 practice/experimental doves drying
2 frogs, 1 goldfish, 1 pumpkin, 6 doves, 2 "Texas," glaze firing (first kiln in months too)
2 frogs, 1 goldfish, 1 test tile, 57 doves waiting for the next kiln
4 tables with my stuff unloaded on them (It is a holiday. I will clean up before the weekend ends.)
1 brain emptied and then filled with possibilities

Meditation:
I sat and let all things go save the clay before me - rolling, cutting, cleaning, and finishing. I rubbed out the unwanted marks with my finger. Soon I am anonymous as my fingerprints are rubbed away by the work. Be the clay. I was the clay. I am the clay.

The time passed unmarked until I finished and realized I could start no additional work this day.