What a difference a day makes...

Thursday...

When you wake up late the walk is more a "hustle" (I do not run). I know I cannot oversleep on a work day, but sometimes I do. And DH "thinks I need the sleep" and does not wake me. We did "hustle" down the road just long enough to stretch our legs and note a couple of lounging cats (at the house where an elderly gentleman appears to feed a goodly percentage of the neighborhood cats) and two woman power walking back and forth on our street.

The mopey looks I received from Snuffalous Scruffalous and Padimus Maximus will likely shame me into an evening walk.We have a busy weekend again and our routine will, of necessity, suffer. [I suspect the middle-aged woman has a harder time with these changes than the pups do...]

Later...oh, shame again! At evening walk time I found myself having to run to work to pick up the eggs (one of my coworkers has chickens!) I left on the desk. Somehow I knew I did not want to find them waiting for me on Monday morning.

I drove home past the park and saw deer along the edge of the woods and then walking to the creek.

Dogs are not happy with me.

Friday a.m.

Ah, some Friday mornings I bless the summer schedule!

The pups and I took off to the park in surprisingly pleasant temperature considering the heat of yesterday and the lateness of the hour.

Walking past the nursing home we were treated with the scent of bacon and pancakes...and none of us had eaten breakfast...stomachs growling, we continued on our way.

The park was almost bustling - city workers arriving and departing with equipment as well as walkers, runners and bikers enjoying the morning.

Knowing it was too late for deer, we went to the enclosed practice diamond - one of the only places where I will let the dogs off leash. They almost flew they were so glad to be able to stretch and run.

We practiced "coming" when called. Scruffy responds beautifully. I will not comment on the chocolate lab...much.

I know Scruff complies hoping there is a treat. Paddy will then "get" it and join the race for a biscuit.

Two puppies tried mightily to find a way out of the gate, but did react when I shouted. They need the "leader" to be more consistent - with commands and rewards. I try to be a responsible pet owner, but I continue to wear the "needs improvement" label.

On our way home the sunshine pointed out details of our park and our woods that we miss in the dark or just dawning light.

And we visited with a stranger - she is no stranger now. Helen walks and has walked for some time. She remembers many moments in the park. She remembers the bicycle.

We note a few wildflowers - appreciated now that the dramatic show of mustard, bluebonnets and gaillardia have passed...wild petunia, wild morning glory, a few others.

Some of our neighboring yards are ragged, but some are lovely. One in particular (the one with zinnias) almost always has something lovely blooming.

The pups, exhausted, drink water together from my hand. I can tell I am forgiven for yesterday's failures. Now it is time for breakfast and chores...

Five deer, five cats, two dogs...

All day long I listen to the noises of construction outside my office window. A three story building is going up, concrete sidewalks and stairs removed, gardens destroyed, parking lots rebuilt, trees cut down - the droning, clanging, banging and general disturbance outside combines with the racket of the air conditioner spitting out dust in my office. It is a symphony of irritation, the background noise for 11 long hours.

Hence the morning walks.

Yes, I need the exercise. Yes, the dogs need to be out and exploring. But the primary motive for walking is escape, if only for an hour, from machines and distruction to nature...an escape from the noises of man to those of droaning cicadas and creaking crickets; to bird songs and deer snorted warnings. It is an hour's innoculation - dogs joyfully investigating neighborhood smells; dragonflies and butterflies skimming the top of the meadows; and cycles of growth, flowering, seeding and dormancy...

Four of us walked today and were greeted by one doe gracefully leaping across the road in front of us as she exited the near meadow. We continued on to the far meadow where four more does grazed. They startled and headed on to the woods beyond.

The cloud-cover was grey and misty rain fell, just enough for us to wonder if it was rain or not.

It was a cat morning as well. Two greys and a tuxedo met us near the park. A yellow and yet another grey fled our yard as we returned home. Ready for another day.

Everything changes

We have been noticing how many trees have suffered from last year's drought - in the park, in our yard, in our neighborhood.... Some have been killed outright. Some dropped limbs in the storms we had this spring.

Earlier in the week we noted a huge oak in our block had died. It was at the edge of a yard and spread its branches across the entire street providing wonderful shade, a respite on a hot and sweaty walk. Only a few days after we noticed its demise the sawing started. They are almost finished taking it down, cutting it up and hauling it away.

A little old lady used to live in that house, although she has been gone for some years now. I remember noticing the thick cover of leaves on the grass one year. My sweet boy and I raked, knowing the lady was alone in the house. We gathered  them all up and hauled them away for compost. We had a few blisters and a sense of accomplishment, as well as a new friend.

The new neighbors visited as I gathered these images to share with the children. They are heartbroken (as are we) and plan to plant another tree to cover the nakedness of the house.

So our neighbor is gone, but we have another. The old tree is gone, but a new tree will grow.

And we will remember.

A few loads of limbs and trunk were hauled away earlier today.

The neighbor's zinnias

The zinnias smile as we walk by.

What's that - that noise in the woods?

The clouds threw a grey blanket across the sky keeping the darkness close a little longer.

We arrived in the park to discover Sissy and Dewayne walking the labs. But we had plans to capture images of the deer crossing (or wallow, depending on your perspective)....

We are sure they must cross here - in numbers....

And we wanted to catch the start of the wild honeysuckle...

But then we heard such a racket in the woods. The creek runs through the park and into the woods where it continues parallel to the dirt road for some distance. We were all startled, but then realized it must be the herd, headed for the few remaining pools of water.

But no deer showed themselves this morning. And we wandered back home with only one witness - a cat, grey as the clouds, watching us from the field as we passed.

Deer in the woods

Paddy and Scruffy humored me today as I tried a dual leash today. But we scarcely noticed the walk to the park as we hurried along. Once we arrived we glanced about to see who was there and whether we had time to venture down the dirt road.

The pink sky colored the wispy clouds. It was still a bit cooler in the park. And I wondered if there was any chance for deer today.

The pups investigated a spot along the road where the grass is beated down. I suspect it is a place the deer cross from the woods to the road and on to the meadows. I cannot imagine what else could cause that much disarray in the weeds. Even a bunch of kids would not cause that kind of flattening of foliage.

We headed down the road to check a few stray wafer ash saplings on the way to the far meadow and, looking up, spied a buck at the end of the road. He stood - majestic and motionless - watching us as we closed in on the opening to the field. Then he called a warning and disappeared in the woods.

No other deer were in the meadow when we arrived. Forewarned, they moved faster than we did and must have headed beyond the meadow towards the wooded area bordering the old golf course.

Pleased at our short, but fruitful hunt, we headed back down the road towards the rest of our day.

We had moved maybe fifty feet down the road we were surprised by a loud snorted warning on our right. More deer were hidden in the woods, invisible to us, but close enough to startle us with that cautionary signal.

The wild honesuckle with its tiny, delicate flower has suddenly appeared blooming along the road.

How much would we miss if we did not venture forth every day, if we did not watch for those small changes around us?

It is wonder. It is delight.

Almost a perfect Sunday morning

Another early Sunday morning trip down to Hander Park. We are almost the only ones stirring today.

Then Sissy and DeWayne drive by, waiving. We know they will be at work by the time we get to the park. And they are..."quack" and throw; release, whistle and retrieve. Off leash, the teenage labs follow orders and stare at my ruffians, but do not deviate from their directed activity.

Paddy and Scruff  are fascinated. We stop and watch, but I doubt my two are picking up behavior tips.

They have twisted their leashes into one long red and pink braid. My hand is firmly in place (wrapped up) and, while squeezed, not pained. I decide to leave it alone and adjust only when necessary. We cannot run the risk of a loose dog in the park...at least not one of our dogs.

The first meadow seems suddenly all drying grass. The last of the riot of wildflowers are hidden beneath and a few horse mint force their way out and scent the area. The lack of a morning breeze allows the scent to linger, but will make the walk all too warm all too quickly.

We hug the edge of the woods on our return, dogs sniffing, walker looking for those plants that have so captivated this spring and summer - those plants we will try to propagate in our lazy/casual way (our side yard is full of such experiments).

Wafer Ash (Ptelea Trifoliata)

The wafer ash trees are just out of reach. They will need to be marked soon...and I have a plan to do so without exposure to too many of the dangers of the woods.

(Clematis pitcheri) Purple Leatherflower

Then we noted the clematis are still blooming...they continue to surprise, these purple blooms. Just when I think they have finished, I discover another group of buds and blooms and the crazy mad green things left when the petals dry and fall away.

(Insanus insanum viridia)

The climb back home - one steep hill, one gradual incline - provides those sights and sounds that make this walk such a pleasure most days. A bed of zinnias reminds me of Dad on this fathers' day. He always planted them and Mom would cut them to decorate our table - bright orange and red and pink and yellow. A cicada startles the pups as it buzzes its objection to being disturbed and zips off into the grass. And, just before we can see our house, we hear a woodpecker on our left and the cooing of the white wings on our right.

It is almost the perfect Sunday morning walk.

Water dogs or "Let's scare the ducks!"

We headed to the park on the creek today - thinking the dogs would enjoy a frolic in the water. They enjoyed it - wandered around, drank the water, found dead fish, shook water all over each other (it is rather counter productive for one to shake dry all over the other...just starts an endless loop of shaking dry and getting the other wet...).

Then, having decided to walk the length of the pedestrian way along the creek, we realized that you can never tell who is going to behave or misbehave (kids or dogs). Scruffy just enjoyed being out. Paddy, the true retriever, was here for the ducks. She showed her true strength at one point almost pulling me off a ledge and into the creek after a particularly ugly quacker. Had it not been for quick thinking by DH I suspect I would not be taking walks for a while. I guess DH decided he didn't want to raise these dogs alone...

Initially the walk was cool along the creek banks in the shade of ancient native pecan trees. It warmed up as we reached the "town" section with more concrete to retain the heat of the previous day. And as the sun rose higher we were ready to head home.

The park cats sat watch. They are two greys...and made me think of those we saw just days ago on our other route.

We heard, but did not see a woodpecker and the swallows were gliding under the bridge structures sheltering their nests.

We met a few people on the trail: two volunteers on a golf cart, three walkers, one jogger, one lady with two dogs (one suspiciously more squirrel-like than dog), and one of the town father twins. We did not know which he was as they are identical.

One is "ours" as his grandchildren were in elementary with and friends of our children - and he attended our church. The other went to a neighboring church and I know less about him. I have confused them before (actually, before I knew they were twins. "You must think I am my brother.") He asked the "pedigree" of the pups and we laughed describing our rescues' backgrounds. I usually just say, "They are good dogs."

Scruff jumped into the car first, gently establishing his alpha-ness. But after these few days, neither seems to really care much about who is first as long as they are part of our family.

 Water dogs...

 

"DUCK!"

Park cats

"Let's go home."

Hairy or downy?

Split up the pack today. Scruffy has injured his paw somehow and so turned back with DH. Padimus and I walked a little further.

A bit less distracted, we enjoyed the relative quiet of the early morning. Then we saw a flash of red to our right. A woodpecker was flitting around the tops of the utility poles, looking for breakfast. I realized it was the first time I have identified a woodpecker before hearing the "peck."

OK. I will admit that I do not know if it was a "hairy" or "downy" woodpecker - it was whichever is larger...I think "hairy."

We stopped and watched to see if he would find anything, but he continued on his way. We continued on our way as well - home to our breakfast.



NOTE: After looking at photos I am stumped. This woodpecker had more red than either bird mentioned above. I am going to stick with wildflower identification and leave the birding to others. I can tell a cardinal from a bluejay, but may never be able to distinguish many others.

Ice Cream!!!

Today we hunt the exotic ice cream stand...

No sharing...

But no fighting...

How do I get this off my nose?

"Hey, toots. Watch this."

Ah, the joys of pets.

Went home for lunch today to check on Scrufimus. He and Paddy roamed the yard, begged for treats, sat when directed (Paddy knows this drill from old, but Scruff just learned to "sit" and is somewhat inconsistent) and splashed a bit in their water (I will have to video Scruff drinking. I have never seen anything like it. He digs in the water and gets most of his body wet.).

I thought I would leave them to explore for a few minutes "on their own" and walked just far enough away to watch the gate by the drive.

It didn't take too long for our smart boy to realize a bump of the nose would effect an escape. I can imagine him looking at Paddy and saying, "Hey, toots. Watch this!" as he moved the latch and scooted through the now open gate. Of course she followed.

 Paddy Finn

We have grown complacent with our sweet Paddy, bred for her color (and not for her brains-bless her heart). Scruffy was not the beneficiary of any such genetic manipulation...he has all the smarts of whatever breeds he is...and he will bear close watching...

First hunt

Padimus, Scrufimus and I headed to the park on our first solo walk just as the sky began to brighten. We wanted an early start as who knew how long this might take. Well, it was a fast walk, the dogs paced each other. They jockeyed a bit for lead, but with leashes the same length it was only "by a nose." It is not yet clear who is alpha among the four-leggers, but I intend to the boss.

Yes, I am the boss of them... really.

We met one other dog walker with a German shepherd on our easterly jaunt. Shepherds always make me nervous (my only dog bite was from a shepherd) so we crossed the road and gave him the sidewalk. No one barked or fretted. All was well.

Running man caught up with us in the park and we exchanged a bit of explanation ("You have another dog.") and learned more about our park community. He also has two dogs and is caring for another. His wife is the primary walker in their house too. "She does a good job," he said..

No other other humans were present and no other dogs.

The pack hunted the herd, but there were no deer today in the first meadow. Both dogs turned for home effortlessly...another good sign.


Two grey cats lounged in the yard at the top of the steep hill. They casually watched our progress and neither dog paid them any mind. And we achieved our goal - home safely - in record time.


Scruff seems a smart dog and willing to adjust to us, our routines, our yard, our neighborhood rhythms.

Beware the pack!

After all the excitement of the afternoon one would think we would give it a rest - especially as our new friend had FINALLY stopped barking. But there was an argument to be made that the pack needed an outing to cement the new  relationships.

So, off we went to North Belton. It is a short, but intense walk - requires crossing Main Street at an uncontrolled crosswalk and then at a light. And there are times crossing at the x-walk is simply impossible.

It became clear immediately that Scruffy has not walked on a leash regularly. It was also fairly obvious that he was humoring us at the vet - he has a strong pull...VERY strong pull. We shortened his leash to keep him out of the street and allowed Padimus to be the example of proper walking behavior (She only behaves because of habit and a pinch collar. I am a little ashamed of my failure to train, but there it is.).

The only worrisome moment was when there was a "tripping up" of one handler in the middle of the street. That was soon remedied, but it makes the need for lots of walk training abundantly clear.

We have been back about 45 minutes and Scruff is "intermittently" barking. He has until 9:30 before I bring him into the house and crate. This may mean no late walks if we cannot get some handle on the barking at night.

Our boy will report that Paddy barks at night, but I have never heard her perform like this.

Barking is slowing now. Yeah! Perhaps I am too sensitive. This may be like your kids misbehaving in Walmart or a restaurant. They bother you more than they are bothering others. But then again...

Where are we going?

3/4 of the pack

Sharing a scent.

Scruffy Finn, new member of the pack

I made a promise about the children's last name...so...it is Scruffy Finn.

We prospective new dog parents both took the afternoon off to introduce Paddy and Scruffy slowly according to the many recommendations received in person and via electrons. We are, apparently, creating a pack and so we must act like a pack. We told the pound worker we would need some time and that she didn't have to stay with us. She offered her help if we needed and left us to ourselves.

We walked around and around this small grassy area at the pound. We proceeded slowly - following each other around then sniffing, and sniffing, and sniffing some more. Finally we began walking together, our pack. No one growled, no one even barked. Paddy whimpered a little, but stopped fretting by the time the decision was made.

I walked Scruffy over to the vet next door to the pound and they took us as a walk-in, no questions asked (I like these people). He got his rabies shot and was tested for all the creepy crawlies that plague dogs. He is clear and we got him some meds to keep him clear.

Then we headed to the pet store for a new collar, leash and brush (he really is a mess!) and a few other necessaries. That being taken care of we headed home to get him set up in the yard with Paddy. We are still proceeding slowly. They each have their own spot with water and food bowl and house. He LOVES water. I can see we will need to head to the creek/river/lake soon. He has already knocked over his water once and we may have to figure out a way to secure the tub of water we have for him.

He is barking now (and barking and barking and barking). I hope the neighbors are patient. We will see how this goes - not sure if this is a problem or merely adjustment issues. I imagine he is announcing himself (if it deters any squirrels, I will be happy).

Scruffy did get an initial brushing and a bath. He loved both. Like I said, HE LOVES WATER. I can see this will be a good way to bond with him. Paddy will benefit as well...

We continue to be cautiously optimistic, but I am a believer in "signs" and a non-believer in "coincidence." So, here is the "sign." As we arrived at the door to the vet's office a woman was walking out. She stopped me and asked, "What is his name?" When I said, "Scruff." She responded that she knew it. She knew him. He was owned by her next-door neighbors. She said he was a great dog - a wonderful watch dog. She also said that he originally came from the Carolinas as a puppy.

Perhaps most importantly she said that his name is "Scruffy" not "Scruff." She saw him in the paper when the pound "spotlighted" him and thought to herself, "They have his name wrong."

So, now we have a little more of his background story and we have his name right. The rest of his story is what we, the pack, make it.

Waiting for the vet.

Can you beat the storm?

Work was odd this Tuesday. Without the crush of students brought by registration and then de-registration we found ourselves catching up on all the projects - clearing desks, changing offices, finalizing reports, and ordering supplies etc. - that don't get done during our busy (very busy) times.

The Internet was "down-ish" - soooo slooowwww when it was working that anything requiring the net (time sheets, schedules, email) became a major frustration. And then the weather began to look a little strange. But no Internet, no Intellicast or other weather site...no way to check what was coming.

Suddenly the storm was on us. It came in with crazy-mad wind blowing the dirt of the construction areas like a sandblaster and then swirling it around. The wind broke tree limbs and lifted metal siding (slamming it down with a crash).

All I could think was that Houdini dog was, at that minute, working to escape the yard - escape the storm.

Just as the rain was starting I hustled to the car and home, hoping to at least be able to get her inside and calmed.

As I turned our corner I saw that my boy was already home, the gate to the yard was open, and there was no sign of Padimus...no sign outside anyway. The kitchen floor was a mess of muddy dog prints. It seems he arrived with the storm and Paddy met him at the gate, grateful for the rescue.

So, after the storm passed and the temperature dropped 15 degrees, Paddy and I took a leisurely walk to the park and back. The storm had washed away the scents so the distractions tonight were movement: the dog walking in the park, crickets hopping on the sidewalk, a broken Styrofoam cup rolling erratically in the middle of the street.

We surprised a bird as we arrived home (it flew away squawking into the dusk), but wasted no time in getting inside for the night. More bad weather threatens tonight and we will need our rest for tomorrow and our decision about the pack...

Tryout, Trial run, Trial walk

My walk today was only 15 minutes long, but telling.

Paddy has been mourning the loss of Oreo (as have we) for over two years. She has tried to play with neighborhood dogs, but most are not amused at her overtures.

We thought about another dog, but wanted to make sure we were ready and that no one would need a place to park a pet (we thought there was a possibility we might become doggie grandparents). We knew we did not want a "pack."

So we have half-heartedly been looking for a rescue animal. Recipients of advice from my friend Steve (who has an amazing family of dogs..."a real dog-whisperer"), direction from the Taylor animal control officer (we thought our dog was there, but he was claimed before we could get there), and guidance from the internet, it has only remained to find the right animal.

It is time. And something made me look online today. And there he was...

So we walked today, on my 30 minute lunch break. He was easy with me - no dragging me across the lawn. He seems a normal mutt, but hasn't had much training. And boy is he rough. He is desperately in need of a bath and some grooming...

Tomorrow we see what Paddy thinks. Armed with the guidance of friends and experts we will take a walk as our own pack and see how it goes.

Watch this space...

Dragon's breath

Ah, the humidity...two layers of clouds acted as a blanket, keeping the temperature unpleasantly warm....

The moon, wedged shaped and ghostly, could be spotted as the wind attempted to blow away the whispy lower clouds.

So little was stirring, I began to think of time. I cannot tell the time by the amount of daylight or the angle of the sun. But it is possible, perhaps to know by which birds are singing or how many dogs bark on the way to and from the park. Then there is the message of the newspapers - are they thrown? have they been retrieved?

My inconsistency does not help. I have developed no summer routine as the work schedule changed, so I cannot know that running man usually arrives at 6:15 while banana man zooms in at 6:30. I can only guess.

It is too muggy to think of such things, perhaps I need to plan my seed saving this a.m. Flowers are blooming-out. The meadows are drying and seed will soon start to scatter. What is the best method to gather and insure I know what is what? How can I be the least intrusive and allow enjoyment of the final blooming before blasted heat?

Padimus recognizes my distraction and walks beside me with little hesitation or attempt to pull away for some interesting smell or buzzing/jumping insect (she adores crickets and cicadas).

A few of the older neighbors are out in their yards on our return trip home. We are one dog bark early today.

(wild petunias bloom along the way - in the park and in neglected yards)

Deer in the meadow (squint hard - middle of photo)

Not the best camera - or photographer - but we captured one of the herd before they fled.

Sunday at sunrise

Padimus alerted (as in stopped and took the pointing stance of all good hunting dogs) before we made it to the park. It was a good sign. We were early - really early for a Sunday - and we were alone in the park.

I tried to ignore the silent chant in my head, "There will be deer. There will be deer..." as we headed down the dirt track to the close meadow. 

At first the meadow looked empty, but then I spied one deer, head and huge ears silhouetted against the darkness of the woods beyond.  I waived my companion forward, two deer turned to look at us, and at least four others bounded out of the grass before all disappeared into the woods. The grass, chest high now, had given cover to the rest of the herd.

The far meadow is partially mowed and we headed there, in case the herd stopped in its flight from this harmless band, two middle-aged walkers and a big dog.

We hugged the edge of the mowed area and discovered still bright wildflowers disclosed when the grass was shredded for a practice baseball diamond. Stray specimens of cone flower, gaillardia, horse mint and verbina were bright as spring. I suppose the sun must fade them a bit and these had been sheltered by the grass.

The deer had moved along and so did we. Early morning mosquitoes began to threaten and

the sunflower saluted the rising sun.

Grit Lives (Recipe for Cushaw Pie)

When my daddy was a boy he sold Grit. I had no idea it still existed, but apparently many periodicals have made the transition to electrons.

And there in Grit, Rural American Know-How, I found a recipe for Cushaw Pie - a delicacy my friend at the farmers' market tells me is not to be missed. He said the only time his father "disciplined" him was when he had a third piece of cushaw pie at a neighbor's house. Like my father, he was probably raised in tough times and that third piece of pie was not just rude, but potentially taking food out of the mouth of the neighbor's children.

Here is a link to the recipe. I will be trying it when the cushaw squash is ready (I'll post photos and a review). And I will think of my friend, his daddy, and my daddy.

http://www.grit.com/recipes/easy-pie-recipes-cushaw-squash-pie.aspx

Bag lady with no bags

Our walk was cut short this morning by an irresponsible pet owner without a plastic bag. After spending an hour yesterday trying on "cargo shorts" to make sure there is room for flashlight, id, camera, bags, water, keys etc. forgetting an essential item just seems silly. Guess I need a checklist posted on the back door.

At least the shorts are a success. There is perhaps nothing more frightening than a bag lady with a cane, a big dog, and shorts slowly slipping away under the weight the "treasures" she carries.

So, it was off to the farmers' market instead. Some of our favorite folks were there - Harold has just about everything and shares his recipes for frying just about everything (heard the fried "patty-pan" squash directions today; the foreign service retiree (now also a retired teacher) explained the use of cushaw squash he is growing, along with tomatoes and melons, on a sandy-loam farm some distance away; the herb lady reminded me the lovely little plant I purchased last year is used for earache - not cooking; and the "big" operation tempted us with much, but sold us only peaches.

And the garlic lady was there. I don't think I have ever had such garlic. I wait all year to buy a bunch and hoard it into the winter. She had a "recipe" for freezing a garlic/olive oil slurry. I will have to think about that.

I am already loving the summer.

Lichen covered limb, felled by the storm

Muddy road, muddy shoes, muddy girls

It seemed as if it had rained again, but this was only the remainder (reminder?) of the thunderstorm of two nights ago. The air was cool and damp, the dew heavy on everything. Clouds hid the sun to the east while the moon, no longer full watched over my shoulder.

Banana man (with an orange today) greeted us and we heard DeWayne’s training whistle from the back of the park. With this many folks around we could wander the dirt road to the far meadow – not quite fearlessly, but...

It is too late for deer. We knew it by the time, if not by the noise. The presence of Sissy and DeWayne’s trainees, a load of labs, insured it. The deer could smell them even without a breeze.

We could tell we just missed a few deer – hoof prints in the muddy ground. But only two or three deer passed here - not the herd. We left more than our prints as we slipped and slid in the mud…then slung mud, kicked up behind us, as we walked along.

The goal today was to make some distance (most of the week’s earlier walks were too short – because of time or weather or weariness) and to plan seed saving for the next few weeks. The coneflowers, gaillardia, mint and other wildflowers had been the objects of my desire, but visions of the wafer elm haunt me.

Cedar elms are well represented in my yard (and I regularly battle volunteers).  But the wafer elm is lovely – the foliage and the flowers/seeds. And propagation should be a simple challenge…stick

some cuttings in the dirt and see what happen - plant some seeds and try to remember to keep them watered. But I could not remember exactly where they stood in the woods and, while Paddy might want to wander among the brambles, I will not risk snakebite or worse. Fortunately we find a small exemplar along the road.  A stake will do as a reminder for seeds soon and cuttings later.

The dew dripped from cedar and mesquite and tall grasses. It weighted down the tips of limbs and seed heads…bowing the solo sunflower just blooming among the dry grasses and few wildflowers refusing to give up their spring bloom.

A lichen covered limb had fallen in the night – beautiful.

Ghostly music drifted in from the waterpark.

We plodded along taking photos and mental note of this wet and shiny, dirty and stunning morning.

Friends honked and waved as we made our way home.

Thunder

Two a.m. and the rain woke me - just as the thunder began.

A barefoot run - no walking - to the gate - a whistle and call for Padimus. Where was she? Was she already out of the yard and working her way to the door?  Was she stuck in the neighbor's yard (yes, she has been known to dig under our fence only to be made prisoner next door)?

I returned to the back door - whistled and called again.

There, there's Paddy, her eyes glowing in the beam of the flashlight. She must have slept through the beginning of the storm. She had been safe in her house or Oreo's. Now she and I were up and awake and getting very wet.

Another barefoot run back to the gate for a surprisingly coordinated fastening of the leash.

We were both shivering as we stopped in the kitchen, the rain conspired with the too cold conditioned air.

We dried off, settled down, and (finally) slept - safe from the storm.

Cat walk

Pets refuse to walk together. Hobbes says "no" inside the house. Paddy objects outside. Paddy walks first and Hobbes makes it around one side of the house...Guess we will see how far we can take this adventure.

Doves cooed and cars rolled by. Paddy ignores everything, but Hobbes cannot stand the outside noises. Everything is a threat when you "cannot get away." He startles at cars, windchimes and sprinklers...

Music, no thunder

A check of Padimus (thought we heard thunder - she so hates it) resulted in a quick walk toward, but not to the park.

Birds were singing their evening songs. These were strange notes we had not heard before and we paused to see if we could spot the singers.

The trio of hounds at the end of the block began their chorus as we came abreast of the yard. The two base barkers and their tenor friend were joined by Padimus' fretful soprano.

The 8:30 train whistle blew and neighborhood dogs all around answered back.

It was not quite dark when we arrived home, but our tree-cover creates a yard where it is already night long before the sun sets.

The cicadas calling from tree to tree and crickets' songs merged.

It was a dusky opera performed for us alone.

Evidence, but no deer

Walk began with greeting from the mighty Dash and walking partners. It was lovely and temperate. Glancing back we noted a full moon just over the neighborhood tree-line.

We felt the park's coolness and, with the breeze (warm moist breath) to the north, wandered to the meadow with expectation. But the road evidenced we would see no herd - no tracks. And so we saw no feeding deer, no white flags fleeing. Though Paddy noticed the grass pressed down along the road. This must be a crossing as the scent and grass gave witness.

We are at the end of the brilliant wildflower show. Seed heads are still damp to the touch - must wait to gather any.

Small yellow-green globe in the street along the uphill stretch home - tennis ball? Osage Orange?

Osage Orange. No others around and no Bois D'Arc in evidence. Must have been the leftovers of children playing - wondering at the crazy looking things.

Our trio sang us home...on with the day.

Don't go into the woods...

Exotic creatures observed in the neighborhood on this Sunday morning: smooth-talking "ne'er-do-well" walking home from Saturday night misbehavior, coffee cup in hand and bare-chested birdbath-filler with showercap.

Some of the usuals were present in the park as well - running man, Sissy and DeWayne...

The morning sun peeked into the recesses of the woods...making it so inviting...surely there ...is nothing dangerous, nothing hiding there...and Padimus struggled to follow the sunbeams..."come my child"...

But somes notice brambles, thorns, and fallen logs sheltering snakes and spiders and other creepies and crawlies. We settled for photos taken from the edge. And, as the probationers arrived to pick up trash and the trash-pickers arrived to separate out the aluminum cans from the detritus of weekend picnics, we headed home.

We snuck past the enemy - apparently just released from the house, she irritated neighboring dogs - walking the boundaries of her yard. But she never turned to see us slip by.

By the light of the gibbous moon

Even a walk by the light of a gibbous moon, late on a Friday evening is becoming impossible in my neighborhood. The sidewalks are sprinkled with "chip" kicked up from the chip-coat. it is difficult for people and impossibly uncomfortable for dogs to walk on this gravel. So we let Paddy - girl walk in the grass and we crunched the chips.

We tried to cross Main Street and found that every vehicle in town was driving to the shopping centers or away from them. We gave up on the uncontrolled crosswalk and went to the light. We wandered North Belton until the solar lights came on. Then we attempted the crosswalk again and were successful...but we did have to run. I do not worry about the FUM freezing mid-crossing, but Padimus cannot be trusted.

We discovered more half-done spotty chip-coating and lovely tar already tracked onto once clear areas of the street along 14th. Then we found ourselves waiting again - to cross 13th this time. Who knows where these cars were coming from and who cares? There is simply no reason for that much traffic through our residential neighborhood, but we are rapidly changing character. It is only a matter of time.

A frustrating evening, by the light of a gibbous moon...

Sissy and DeWayne

Two oldish girls walked down the street today with storm clouds threatening from the north/northeast. The warm moist air hit us in the face as we turned into the park. A "cold front" was on its way. It had been hard to start the walk today (creaky joints) and I was tempted to cut it short, but somehow something-a feeling that something special was ahead - called us onward.

The robot dog truck passed us and turned around to set up just inside the park. The people waved as did two yellow labby tails in the back window of the pickup. We turned around and found ourselves engaged in conversation. We discovered the dogs are, in fact, hunters in training. The trainers are Sissy and DeWayne (pronounced DEE Wayne).

It changes things, to know people's real names. The sense of community strengthens.

Banana man (David) had arrived and greetings were exchanged again. Sissy pronounced Paddy "A lucky dog" as a stray who found a family. I think we are the lucky ones.

We had no time to mull over our now altered friendships as our enemy watched us from the gate as we headed up the hill toward home. This is not the first time. Another dog often barks from a neighboring yard, but the dark one (of the attack) merely stands and watches. Sometimes it paces as if looking for a way to get out of the yard and to us.

So we thought about the enemy - until we were almost home.

Then we passed Mohawk dog and gang...and they serenaded us, two base barks, one tenor...a howling trio...Mohawk dog, the dane, and the boxer...perhaps we need to learn their names as well.

Sunflowers

Our quick walk was a collection of moments I can only jot down this morning: a Maxfield Parrish sky, birds singing like they did the first time the FUM and I walked around the block - knowing this was where we would live, the owner of the tiny voice waiting for the bus - "school is almost over" "good-bye", a tortoise-shell cat staring at me like Ratso would, a bride's boquet on the seat of the SUV where Paddy stopped to sniff, and sunflowers lining the chain-link of a sad little house (caliche yard, varieties of Christmas lights hanging, abandoned electrical roof decoration)...those flowers smilingly face us (or east to the sun) as we hurry home...

Solar lights and soldiers

On the evening walk to North Belton we met a young couple. He is 1st Cav. and due to go to Afghanistan later in the year. They were doing what we were doing - honoring the fallen.

We roused only a couple of lazy neighborhood dogs tonight. We noted the solar lights as they came on - in among the markers and along pathways in nearby yards.

The dark settled in. The crickets and cicadas sang us home.

Saturday Routine

Reminder: Rethink Saturday routine. Heck, ESTABLISH Saturday routine.

Beautiful dark clouds threatened a bit at the market so I headed home to walk before any storming. Fooled me. Paddy and I enjoyed the shade until we started to turn around. The sun came out and the temperature went up 5 or 10 degrees - catching us out of water and too far from home. We dragged back.

But, before pooping out, we visited briefly with running man (always polite, he coughed when he came up behind us so we would not startle) who claimed chores also kept him from his usual earlier run. We also talked with a couple of neighbors planting a hot pink crepe myrtle in their front yard.

And we did walk the edge of the woods to "see what we could see" as we expected the dark things to be hiding from the bright morning light (and, smarter than us, from the heat). We somehow ended up in the creekbed and walked far enough in to see the stagnant pool - all that is left of the recent rains. There are tracks all around this watering hole, but we declined.

Grasses and wildflowers continue to dry up. A few evening primroses clung to the banks of the creek, some wild morning glory - tiny and white with a blood red eye - lay just below the cut vegetation at the borders of the road. And thistles are blooming in the yard of the once abandoned house. It still looks a bit abandoned, but there are signs of occupancy...the yard is just very rough. I suppose it is time to get to mine before the thistles start to bloom here too.

Summer in the park

Returned home from one of my favorite work duties (name reader for GED graduation - 15th year or thereabouts) to a family planning session for Christmas (Let's go to MC's for the holiday!). Peeled off the dress clothes and changed into the "dog walking wear" as we called numbers on the cell phone left in my office today. We finally found someone to answer (no, we did not leave messages on Mom's or Dad's lines - that scares people when someone from "the college" calls). Turns out it belongs to a co-worker and he will NEVER hear the end of it I am sure. Met his wife at the bottom of the hill.

Then, exhausted from our "good deed," we wandered to the ice cream/snow cone stand. Everyone was treated. Paddy loves vanilla soft-serve. She chased that bowl across the pavement 'til there was none. I find French vanilla most like the snow cones of my youth. DH tried the sugar free cherry.
I forget that ice cream is a sticky mess whether you have little people or big dogs...but it was worth it...I just hope Padimus doesn't decide to drag me to the stand on future walks now that she knows what happens there.

We walked on the pavement as the darkness caught up with us in the park. We do not walk the dirt road at night. We have seen unidentified animals (shadows) walking there at dawn and dusk - best not to meet up with strange and unknown creatures in the dark.

Only one ball field was still in use as we drew alongside (and watched the kids snag the foul balls and home runs - baseballs over the fence. Do you get a free snow cone when you return the ball?).
When there is only one game you can really hear it. You aren't swamped with the noise of too many aluminum bats making contact, too much patter, too many cheering fans. The game sounds and the heat and the taste of the snow cone conspired - I am transported to Rob and Bessie Welder Park - I am 12 years old with a peeling sunburn hoping to get a turn announcing the game with Toots.

I am startled back to the present as the park cat runs for safety in the culvert and Paddy tries to follow.
The night creatures are everywhere: a fox crosses the entrance to the park as we head for home; the neighborhood cats start their evening prowls; the crickets drone in in the background as the cicadas call and answer.

Mohawk dog - leader of the chorus

Dawn was breaking as we entered the park. The misty fog gathered in the low lying areas and across the soccer fields towards the back of the park. It brought to mind one of the traditional songs I first heard sung by Steeleye Span and I sang it in my head (One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather I met with an old man clothed all in leather...)

We three walked the dirt road and noted the dew-brushed spider webs and grasses. The first meadow was still full of wildflowers freshened by our recent rains. All along the road were signs that we were just minutes behind the deer. Hooves had broken through the dry surface of the road and into the mud just below...tracks still damp.

As we approached the second meadow one doe was framed by the woods on either side of us. I pointed at her twice to make sure those in our party were aware and quiet. As we were clearing the woods we heard that loud warning snort on our right. Alerted, those in the meadow started bounding away through the high grass. I counted six then two more came out of the woods and joined the herd. Seeing them like this never grows old for me.

We turned towards home and one last deer crossed the road about 100 feet ahead of us. I don't know if this was a straggler or if she circled around us. But Paddy could barely be contained.

The rest of the way we stopped frequently to take photos. I will post tonight if any are clear. It is hard not to wiggle the camera when holding a "deer-excited" Padimus.

Our final smile came just blocks from the house when we discovered Mohawk dog and his owner out in their front yard. We exchanged a few words. I told him how much we enjoyed his dogs - that we called them "Mohawk dog and his gang." He related how that was right. Mohawk dog is the oldest and the leader.

[We did try out the new "bling" and are quite taken with the hat light.]

Short walk - Paddy and the dawdler...

Paddy and I walked on our own today - just as the sky was brightening. I think the birdsongs are most varied at this time of morning.

Paddy loves it when it is "just us" as I dawdle and our other companions keep a faster pace. There is more sniffing and tracking of interesting smells with the dawdler. We were early and had the time.

Friends were all about in the park so we walked to the first meadow, but saw no deer. The grass and wildflowers are so high that we could see where the deer had passed through the meadow earlier - greenery pressed down near some tracks and, according to Padimus, strong scent of bambilus.

The only game according to my girl? Felis catus. One older neighbor feeds the neighborhood and we spied 4 lounging around, waiting for breakfast. At Mohawk dog's house (yes, the boys greeted us on our way home) there are easily 3 house cats...they watch us walking by from window perches. I am made guilty - Hobbes has no similar perch. He tries to make his own, but often loses his grip (back of the armchair) or his balance (sliding across the kitchen table on the tablecloth - table surfing?).
More tonight...

Wildflowers Mark the Route

This is an early photo from 2017. I thought I needed a wildflower photo (as I save this old post) and what could be better than some yellow composites.

My drives back and forth to work or on errands have been a feast (or should I say "fiesta"), the table set with the next wave of wild flowers. I have tried not to hurry as all too soon the colors will fade.

Bluebonnets are already gone and fire wheels (gaillardia) cover the wild fields and ditches. Those bright orange, yellow and red blooms (and the already seeded and drying grasses) portend the coming furnace of summer. Thistles are just coming into bloom. The yuccas too have finally caught up with those I saw last month in south Texas - their creamy white blooms a bouquet atop spiny leaved stems.

The cultivated fields are either just up in corn or just harvested with huge cylinders of hay strewn about...like a giant broke her necklace and the beads scattered across the ground.

My former commutes, when the children were small, were all asphalt and subdivisions, pawn shops, and old buildings. I guess this is the trade. When the kids grow up, you are sent fresh reminders of youth - of renewal.

Lonesome whistle blows...

 When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and I cry...

~ Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, Folsome Prison Blues 

Our evening walk started with at least one of us decidedly NOT in the moment. Mowing and trimming and the dying red bud tree initially consumed me, but Padimus literally pulled me out of my thoughts and into the attention I have tried to bring to the walks since our recent unfriendly dog adventures. The dragon's breath wind reminded us that evening walks will end with the increasing heat...today barely temperate enough for two miles.

The park is deserted when we arrive...ah, Wednesday. No games on church night. 

We decide to check the mulberry tree on our way home and find enough berries clinging on (we expected the gales of the day to remove all ripe fruit) for a short picking before it is too dark to spot Jake the snake and other creatures in the grass.

We had picked about a cup of berries when a car pulls up to the curb and a woman exits. I wait (I think I need to get my eyes checked) until I hear her voice and then recognize my friend, Valeria. Returning home from choir practice, Valeria spotted us and stopped to meet Paddy. Always a friendly dog, Paddy went mad over V. I doubt I would still have a walking partner had I no leash today...Paddy continued to patiently sit, move closer and sit again for V to fuss over and pet her.

As the dusk began to threaten we said our goodbyes and headed home. The birds sang their evening songs and children played a few last minutes of catch in the dwindling light. Cats prepared for the prowl. The sun set yellow and pink and orange with the moon and evening star watching.

We are home just before dark as the breeze begins to cool and a train whistle calls in the distance...

Haunting

Late walk with Paddy in the dusk. The moon a sliver with some planet shining above as we skirted North Belton, with its solar lights starting to come on...ghostly sentries amid the white and grey stones.

A Beautiful Day for a Wedding

Lovely day, but sun was in my eyes for half of this walk...another reason to avoid the "lay abed."

Woodpecker staccato set our pace as we headed east into the sunshine. Saturday papers mostly still in the yards while the traffic to early morning sporting events increased.

We walked to the meadow knowing we would only be measuring the advance of the wildflowers and grasses. Last year plants that should have bloomed at a foot or two were mere inches off the ground. This year there are flowers at our ankles, knees, thighs and chest. There is no cutting across unmowed areas... even in the cool damp of the morning, I think snake.

We revel in the new blooms and the old. Some mesquite is still blooming in the park and all the pecans have not only leafed out but are budded for what will be a great harvest if we continue to have rain.

Wispy, or fluttery, or leggy things float in the air before us - varieties of insects including skeeter eaters (crane flies) and the dreaded cottonwood fluff. That cottonwood and I do not mix (it signals terrible allergies, whether to it or something else that blooms at the same time, I do not know), but I think it is so lovely suspended on a breeze or gathering like its namesake along the roads...as if God's cotton trailers spilled a bit on the way to the gin.

We examine the mulberry on the way home (impossible to pick berries with an excitable Lab) and discover that it has had a harvest. Whether people or bird or wind and rain picked, I will have to wait for a few days before I try again. And this is fine as I have a few other things to do today before I watch my son's brother, Charlie, wed his lovely bride.

It is indeed a beautiful day!

After the Attack

The sun was a big orange ball starting to clear the tree-line as we headed off this morning. It was still early enough on this crisp morning that most neighbors had not recovered their newspapers.

There is no blood or crime tape marking the place of our attack, but we are still marked (me more than Paddy according to my friend Steve - the dog whisperer) and were more than alert as we crossed the street to give the area a wide berth...

The park seemed like it was waiting for us, perhaps since our efforts to get there were blocked for a few days. We missed it and it missed us. And, as brave girls, Padimus and I decided to wander down the dirt road and visit the meadows too. 

We could see the fresh tracks in the dust of the road. They were here, the deer. (That the skunks had been there was clear too, although we saw none of their tracks.)

The wild verbena are huge and beautiful - a new carpet of purple. Ahead on the road the birds (including a cardinal - thank you God for all the birds, but especially for some that are not brown and grey. I love those as well, but I need to be able to identify a few) flitted back and forth from one side to the other.

We heard some rustling in the woods, but feared we were simply too late...until we reached the back meadow. We were rewarded for our courage this day. One deer was just entering the clearing from the woods. It snorted a warning and a second doe joined it. They ran and stopped, ran and stopped, crossing the entire meadow. We watched them, white flags waiving back and forth as they entered the brush again.

With the sun at our backs we went home, again skirting THAT place. We noted the parade of parents heading to the playing fields. And we complain of congested roadways no more remembering our good neighbors...

Park Blessings

Still adjusting to the time. Got up early (6) to discover DH had not gone for his run. I sacrificed my sleeping late to make him walk with me.

Paddy doesn't care if it is 6 or 8 or 11. She is just ready to go.

The lights of town bounced off the cloud cover and so if seemed brighter than normal. The same band present in the park: banana man, Bobby, Escalade man...but there was also a strange truck in the parking lot. The driver was just sitting there with the overhead light on...

We heard lots of night insects. INSECTS! Perhaps this means we will have a return of the owls and other creatures that have been missing this past year of drought.

Banana man spoke of his blessings as we exchanged greetings this morning.

I know what he means...

2 Calicos

Ah, I will always have the walk. 

I will miss these spring break walks. The neighbors and neighborhood are different in the light of day - the calico cats lounging in a neighbor's yard, the heeler off-leash and staying at his owner's side, the little old couple doing yardwork, MORE cats lounging in the windows at Mohawk dog's house, the friend on his riding mower at the house across the street [Once the unhappy house of a murderer, three families later, it still appears in my mind surrounded by police tape], the shrubs and trees (save the pecans which know about snow at Easter) shooting out green in time for the saint's day, and a tiny purple blooming weed creating carpets of color everywhere. 

I know what this silly little thing is called, but cannot remember right now. I have two wildflower books out for help. I think it funny how such an insignificant plant can have its time to show off. It is not normally so widespread and obvious, but the drought killed its competitors. This is its year...whatever it is called...bringing us visions - fields of purpley pink...

The heeler and two calicos seemed a message from Oreo, Ratso and Peaches  -that all is well.

How Many Mornings?

How many perfect mornings do you get?

Every single one you get.  

Sometimes they are easy to recognize

and other times you have to squint to see

and listen hard to hear

the beating of your heart

and the snort of deer

- warning the herd of the approaching threat.*

Sometimes it is just a perfect morning. While we started out late, the day was dawning and gave us such a different experience.

The temperature was cool. And the view? We came around the corner and started down the last hill - the sight of the old truss river bridge bearing the first few cars of the early to work always makes me smile - a youthful memory not yet the victim of upgrade. Above that the skeletal trees, still holding out against one more spell of cold weather, reached up to a necklace of lights from the next town over followed by the vivid colors of the sunrise and the dark layer of clouds.

We decided to walk to the first meadow...where we felt, but did not see the deer herd. They had left scent, prints in the dusty road, and a sense of their having deserted the clearing just as we passed the tree line. We will try again another day.

We noted buttercups blooming along the way home and Padimus attempted to engage an older hound who responded with only a bored look. Mohawk dog and friends made up for the snub. It will soon be time for his haircut and we cannot wait. He is a different dog in the summer. But then aren't we all a little different in the summer?

NOTES:

* This memory popped up in social media and I check to see if it was saved here. It wasn't, but now it is.

Girls walking in the dark

Perfect morning for a walk. Escape dog was glad to get out of the pen.

The park was empty. The stars were out. The creeks were flowing with the last of the rain run-off. I kept thinking, "we will see deer." But there were no deer, no creatures out (too early for the birds).

On the way home we heard two dogs bark as we passed and one of Mohawk dog's buddies came out for a walk with his owner, disturbing Paddy.

She talked about it all the way home.

December 26, 2011

Late walk with Paddy and DH.

We were not alone - new woman with dog, Dave and running man...

Some of the things I love about the park (in addition to the birds, deer and walking/running friends) - the way the leafless pecan trees look silhouetted against the gray sky...the wind moaning spookily across the signposts...the intermittent streams...the tiny wildflowers struggling to bloom in spite of drought...

Trust Your Dog

I love Paddy.

As we approached the second turn into the park Paddy was alert and clearly reacting to something. She was totally aware and concerned.

Then OC spied a truck in an odd place (really almost hidden along the dirt road to the meadows).

We decided to trust Paddy's (and our) instinct and cut this walk short. Read "The Gift of Fear." I just call it "trust your gut."

Paddy would say, "trust your dog."