We didn't make it far

Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free

~ Leonard Cohen

Five days of rain are predicted. It rained most of the night. It will rain most of the day.

But so far we have only had light showers. It comes and goes a sprinkle to short downpour, but nothing to warrant concern over our low water crossings and no real "thunder boomers" to terrify the dog.

I checked the radar map this morning, spied a gap in the storms, "geared up," grabbed Paddy, and headed to the park.

We were walking around the Sunday morning church rush, but folks weren't in a hurry - we stopped some 5 patient/courteous drivers when we crossed our busiest intersection.

We had hoped to see other creatures out dodging raindrops. We hoped to see wildflowers.

Three birds, one squirrel, and one snail later it began to rain. "Do we turn around?" I wondered. "Yes," I answered, feeling it likely that storms had developed after we left the house and that we might otherwise be stuck in someone's garage or a less happy shelter when the lightning/thunder arrived.

It rained and stopped, rained and stopped. And we got home in time for the frog choker. I had left Paddy outside briefly, but then heard the thunder in the distance. She was resting in her dog house, but did not object to coming inside.

We made it inside just before the big rumblings and startling claps began. It is POURING down at this moment. And there is more thunder off to the east.

Paddy has settled at my feet [Hobbes, that menace, has left the room - satisfied he has adequately riled the dog.  Oops, more thunder...and Paddy is up and fretting (and then trying to climb into my lap).

The storm will clear us soon, if the radar is true. But more is to arrive before long. Pets can nap and I will finish my Sunday chores.*

One of the few birds we saw. We did hear them singing all around us.

Walked under one of the beautiful old neighborhood oak trees.

The sky was grey.

Dandelion leaves have caught some raindrops.

Paddy won't settle for a snap.

The snail saw us coming and took shelter.

Storms all around and due to torment us for days. [Yes, I know we need rain. But do we need 5 days of rain?]

NOTES:

*Laundry and dishes and sweeping and such.

At the edge of the park - three walks from long ago.

April 2012*

The mulberry tree -

We started the walk in spite of the ominous atmosphere - we are at the tail end of those storms that have devastated the middle of the country. Our spirits were briefly lifted when we spied a little grey bird with nesting material in its beak.

But two blocks later we happened upon a "gang" of buzzards (not one, not two, not three, FOUR) perched on the ridge of an empty house...creepy...

We continued on hoping to finish the walk before the storms are here (and Mike hoping to finish the walk before HIS Sunday Morning begins). But I remembered…

I hand off the leash as we turn for home and tell the FUM not to worry if I am another 20 or 30 minutes.

I remembered the mulberry.

This is my third mulberry tree. The first was at the scout hut "back home." I didn’t even know what a mulberry was, but my friend, Suz, did. The tree was far enough down the road in one direction to avoid the notice of the property owner and in the other direction to skirt the attention of our leaders (sorry Mom and Mrs. A!). We hit all the low hanging fruit and then climbed the brittle limbs for more…eating those berries by the grubby little handful…resulting in stained t-shirts, purple hands and a few tummy aches. The berries lasted for about two meetings and were gone…

Fast forward to 1978, Speedway, Austin, Texas. A car-less student gets to know the neighborhood pretty well (especially between the neighborhood grocery store, the shuttle stop and her apartment). And that spring I was greeted by those wine-dark berries. It was a mature tree with fruit enough for a couple of pies…a comforting, homey week or so…a diversion from contracts and torts and property and “why am I doing this?”…

I have lived in my current home for 22 years. I started walking to the park more recently, but I never noticed this tree until last year. It was the end of the “harvest” and there were few berries – just enough to recognize the tree for what it was.

This tree stands at the edge of the woods, at the edge of the park, at the edge of what appears to be city right-of-way. Only a small part of the tree is within reach as the rest is protected by brambles and brush. And yesterday it whispered to me, “I am here, remember? And the berries are ready.” And so they were, the first picking was hanging ready for me.

I gathered all the fruit I could reach. So much is high over my head. I cannot climb trees anymore, but this friend gave me enough for jam, or pie, or muffins. And there will be more.

I walked home with my bag heavy, stained t-shirt and purple hands. Some things do not change…

NOTES:

*FB reminded me of this post. I looked to see it this was saved here too and I didn't see it. So I am saving it now. This tree is still standing at the edge of the park, but it has been dramatically cut back. I haven't picked mulberries again.