5:15 a.m. Walk? Plant? Read?
OK - The decision was made - make coffee and walk.
These dark mornings mean we are limited - not enough light to plant anything (see yesterday and the wealth of iris - bulk of iris - insanity of iris?) and we always need to get some exercise - so we four walked to the park. A sliver of moon smiled down on us - bright enough to provide a little light and dim enough to allow us to see some of the more identifiable constellations (the big dipper was one).
It was light jacket/no hat weather this morning. A jacket just means more pockets to check when looking for the flashlight or camera or dog bags. The cool and damp felt, rather than looked, like fog. And my breath fogged my glasses.
The dogs stopped everywhere. DH and I talked - I shared the iris adventure (I guess that is what happens as you age. Your dear spouse doesn't ask why you get home late, knowing you will share when you are ready or when you think about it or when you remember that you haven't told them where you were and why you had dirt in your shoes.).
I noticed what first appeared to be trash scattered in the neighbor's yard, but the white splotches turned out to be buttercups. I mentioned the buttercups ("Wow. Look at the buttercups.") to DH and noticed he lagged behind a few steps.* When I turned around to see what was keeping him, he was turning off his flashlight. "Didn't you believe me?" I asked. "Well, it looked like trash to me," said he.
And I confessed that I had thought the same at first. But as I had been raised on wildflowers and my heart has been willing them to start blooming for a month now, I leaned close and realized they were the first showy bloomers. Even after forty years in Texas DH - raised in apartments and used to battlefields not blooming ones - does not look for the flowers. And it is this kind of trickery that the darkness creates.**
We continued down the street towards barking dogs and the chill of the park where the temperature seems to drop 10 degrees as we near the river.
I must admit I am not always glad that DH tags along on walks (even though I remain, at over a half-century old, afraid of the dark). Some days he is short-tempered and cranky with the dogs (and me). But today I was glad to have him along. There were wanderers in the neighborhood.
We expect a runner or two. One neighbor is sometimes seen riding his bicycle. People retrieve their newspapers or load their cars and head off to work. Today we passed two runners and three men walking up our street. The walkers were unexpected, certainly out of OUR norm. I sensed DH react to them, tensing a little - body on alert - as he spoke and greeted them with a "Good morning." It would be rare for someone to challenge a walker with two large dogs (even my two sweet and friendly pups-they look scary), but a walker with two large dogs AND a bodyguard is even safer.***
Our walk was once again timed for the cacophony of the trains (two today!) and trash truck. How have we missed this noise before? Maybe we are not the only ones thrown off by the time change or maybe other schedules have been changed. The trains (of my memory) are usually a mournful whistle in the distance, not the chug-chug-chug, rumble, roar and blast - ear numbing noise we have experienced of late.
The dogs and I muddled along behind DH the last few blocks. He seemed ready for the day and we stalled, trying to delay it.
AFTER: I sat down with my coffee and yogurt and computer. I jotted notes about the walk and waited for daylight. Finally, a glance at the window disclosed the sky brightening outside. Time to plant those bluebonnets (should have planted last night, but the darkness caught me).
NOTES:
* Look, sometimes conversation isn't too sharp at 5 a.m.
** The roads become narrower and curve more dramatically. Shadows confuse - even the dogs start at dark patches on some walks.
***Weird as the dogs and I must look as we walk down the dark streets, it is likely no one would bother the crazy lady with the big hounds. Still...
OK - The decision was made - make coffee and walk.
These dark mornings mean we are limited - not enough light to plant anything (see yesterday and the wealth of iris - bulk of iris - insanity of iris?) and we always need to get some exercise - so we four walked to the park. A sliver of moon smiled down on us - bright enough to provide a little light and dim enough to allow us to see some of the more identifiable constellations (the big dipper was one).
 |
| Sliver of moon. My camera makes it look a little bigger than it is. |
It was light jacket/no hat weather this morning. A jacket just means more pockets to check when looking for the flashlight or camera or dog bags. The cool and damp felt, rather than looked, like fog. And my breath fogged my glasses.
The dogs stopped everywhere. DH and I talked - I shared the iris adventure (I guess that is what happens as you age. Your dear spouse doesn't ask why you get home late, knowing you will share when you are ready or when you think about it or when you remember that you haven't told them where you were and why you had dirt in your shoes.).
I noticed what first appeared to be trash scattered in the neighbor's yard, but the white splotches turned out to be buttercups. I mentioned the buttercups ("Wow. Look at the buttercups.") to DH and noticed he lagged behind a few steps.* When I turned around to see what was keeping him, he was turning off his flashlight. "Didn't you believe me?" I asked. "Well, it looked like trash to me," said he.
 |
| Buttercups - had to use the flash. |
And I confessed that I had thought the same at first. But as I had been raised on wildflowers and my heart has been willing them to start blooming for a month now, I leaned close and realized they were the first showy bloomers. Even after forty years in Texas DH - raised in apartments and used to battlefields not blooming ones - does not look for the flowers. And it is this kind of trickery that the darkness creates.**
We continued down the street towards barking dogs and the chill of the park where the temperature seems to drop 10 degrees as we near the river.
I must admit I am not always glad that DH tags along on walks (even though I remain, at over a half-century old, afraid of the dark). Some days he is short-tempered and cranky with the dogs (and me). But today I was glad to have him along. There were wanderers in the neighborhood.
We expect a runner or two. One neighbor is sometimes seen riding his bicycle. People retrieve their newspapers or load their cars and head off to work. Today we passed two runners and three men walking up our street. The walkers were unexpected, certainly out of OUR norm. I sensed DH react to them, tensing a little - body on alert - as he spoke and greeted them with a "Good morning." It would be rare for someone to challenge a walker with two large dogs (even my two sweet and friendly pups-they look scary), but a walker with two large dogs AND a bodyguard is even safer.***
Our walk was once again timed for the cacophony of the trains (two today!) and trash truck. How have we missed this noise before? Maybe we are not the only ones thrown off by the time change or maybe other schedules have been changed. The trains (of my memory) are usually a mournful whistle in the distance, not the chug-chug-chug, rumble, roar and blast - ear numbing noise we have experienced of late.
The dogs and I muddled along behind DH the last few blocks. He seemed ready for the day and we stalled, trying to delay it.
AFTER: I sat down with my coffee and yogurt and computer. I jotted notes about the walk and waited for daylight. Finally, a glance at the window disclosed the sky brightening outside. Time to plant those bluebonnets (should have planted last night, but the darkness caught me).
NOTES:
* Look, sometimes conversation isn't too sharp at 5 a.m.
** The roads become narrower and curve more dramatically. Shadows confuse - even the dogs start at dark patches on some walks.
***Weird as the dogs and I must look as we walk down the dark streets, it is likely no one would bother the crazy lady with the big hounds. Still...
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