Friday, August 29, 2003
I went for a walk today....
The air was crisp, like a late September day. I set out from my home and crossed the busy street to begin my walk. I tried to relax and take in the sounds and the scents from the walk, so I could remember those when I was not able to walk.
I passed my neighbor's house, laden with crimson and peach roses, the scent of lavender mixed with the sweet roses. It was early enough now to feel cool, so although I was facing into the warm sun, it wasn't heating me up. The breeze washed across my face like a cool facecloth. I was a half mile into my walk.
I thought about the Australians and their description of a long walk being a "walkabout." I thought that was what I was doing, being about but on a defininte course. It was easy when concentrating on the things around you to not think about what you brought with you. In the distance I heard a circular saw, and imagining a homeowner working on a new project. The breeze brought waves of heated air toward my nose now, but shade lie ahead in front of the apartment buildings. The sounds of children playing made me stop to listen. What were they playing? The giggly girl, the laughing boy, they must have been on a see-saw. I smiled and continued.
Close to an intersection, the pavement began to cook in the sun, and hot asphalt, mixed with gasoline, began to waft toward me. A big sign, "ICE" hung in the window of the convienence store, next to the lighted "Lottery" sign. A young lady stepped out of the store with a toddler holding on to her hand so tight. She cooed to him, I couldn't hear her but I saw the little boy's face light up. Such tender love.
I am crossing a bridge now, with the brook below a cola-colored trickle. I look beyond into the underbrush, and see a bird on the bank. Stopping in the middle of the bridge, I pause and continue to look. A turtle basks on the shore in a sliver of sunlight, and the bird moves off, skittish and tentative, to move to a nearby branch. She is looking at me now, so I begin to walk again. No cars are on the road now, and with only a distant sound of the trucks on the highway, I hear the brook as it slowly moves downstream.
I have walked almost a mile now, and am near to the intersection I will turn at. More cars are on the road now, stopping at the traffic light. The Krispy Kreme's "HOT" light is on, and I can smell the doughnuts in all their sweetness from across the parking lot. I pass a bus stop, where Dunkin' Donuts has two advertising posters blocking the view of the Krispy Kreme. It doesn't help when you can smell the signature confections in the air. Score one for Krispy Kreme, zero for Dunkin' Donuts here.
Rounding the corner at the one mile mark, the Burger King is gearing up for lunch and the smell of hamburgers reminds me of family cookouts of long ago. The charcoal grill glowing white hot, thick hamburgers at the hands of my grandfather, all combining into the perfect summertime rememberance. I thought back to listening with him to the old Grundig radio and the Red Sox games. That was Tony Conigliaro time and they always seemed to win. I never saw them in person or on TV in those days, but I did see them in my mind, listening to the play-by-play. I can still sing the jingles of the beer and gasoline station commercials too, "Atlantic keeps your car on the go!" and "Mabel, Black Label."
The sidewalk ends and I am walking now on a grassy median in front of some office buildings. Not a very scenic part of the walk, but this part still brings familar scenes, as I have walked this street some twenty times before. The old railroad tracks, long gone, still cross the street with black rubber inserts between the tracks. The health club, appealing to the "Fat" of the summer, and the health bar with the "best" smoothies. I pass the supermarket and climb a slight hill, looking at the cars in the parking lot and some, with people inside, eating and drinking their lunches. I am reminded that I too am hungry now but I will wait.
A right turn brings me to the road behind the shopping center, and I stay on the right to look down the long, grassy median that a gas or water pipeline runs through. A path worn into the grass suggests that it is a shortcut to somewhere, but to where? I can hear lots of birds here, in the trees that line the path on the left. I guess that the brook runs through here too, as I am beginning to parallel my walk going north now. I cross the street after waiting for a few cars to pass. People are crossing also, from the parking lot across the street to the post office. An older man sits in a car outside the post office, smoking a cigarette, and the clouds of smoke drift across the roof toward me. I move a bit quicker to avoid taking in the smoke.
Soon I am near the Catholic school, and the children are on the playground. Their chatter and laughter is heard some distance away, and I see some playing basketball. The bell rings, and they line up to return to class. I am behind some of the restaurants now at the shopping center, and a sweet smoky smell hits me as I round near Applebees. I am going to walk behind this block of restaurants to move up to the main road for the third mile of the walk. The heat cooks the garbage in the giant trash machine, and I quickly move away, up a slight hill, and realize I am out of breath when I stop. I rest for a bit, and continue to walk in front of a few stores, then cross the street to a residential side street.
I need to duck! The maple tree in front of this house has branches that lie a bit too low! A woman is watering her flowers, a colorful compendium of carnations, mums and phlox. The street opens into the sunlight again, and I walk a little slower. The main street is only a few yards from me, and the cars drive especially fast past the 25 mile-per-hour speed limit sign. Reaching the end of this side street, I am now on the sidewalk of the main street.
I walk across a bridge, and realize that this is the same brook that ran on my street. It looks like a lot more water here, and clearer to the bottom too. A frog is croaking somewhere down there, and the water makes a slight rushing noise. I am listening with my ear cocked, as the traffic is heavy for some reason. The sounds and sights of the brook make me smile. At that moment, four women, some in nursing garb, begin to walk past me. They must work in one of the office buildings that I passed. As they move by me, I smile, and I smell a faint flowery perfume from one of them. I imagine that she doesn't work with the others.
I am walking more uphil here, past the fast food restaurants and the wallpaper shop that I frequented long ago. The noise of the rushing cars accompanies the rush of air, warm and dirty past me on the sidewalk. I am in the shade now in front of a building, and slow down a bit to enjoy the cooler walk. It's about three miles along now, and I am surrounded by the noise and bustle of the city here. I will turn off soon to get back into the treed residential area.
A right turn, and I am back into the realm of houses and yards, instead of businesses and parking lots. A simple Cape displays an American Flag on a flagpole in its yard, with a ring of autumn-colored geraniums surrounding the base of the pole. I continue to walk around the corner and up the hill, and more kids are playing, this time basketball in the street. They are all a bit young, and thus height-challenged, but they are having so much fun that the laughter is contagious.
I pass another house with honeysuckle overhanging the fence, such a sweet scent, and observe the flowerpots hanging from the porch, with colors of red, orange, white, and yellow. Rounding the corner, I see a house surounded by a white picket fence. On closer inspection, this is one of those aluminum fences, perfect in its order and design. Close-up, it doesn't look as romantic as the typical white picket fences, with the various-sized pickets and the square posts holding up the garden gate. I think of a picket fence I stood in front of up in Rockport one year, its pickets split by flowers poking between, a cacaphony of color and sweet smells.
I am now one mile from my house, and am facing the sun for the remainder of the walk. I am tempted to stop by one of the convienence stores for a bottle of water, but am reminded of the little change I have in my pocket. The reminder of how much I need to work again. I press on, in the shade by the Baptist church, and under the trees lining the street. I am almost home.
I cross the street, which is sometimes a dangerous notion, but wait almost two minutes for the cars to clear. I am coming by the elementary school my son used to attend, and look up at the posterboard signs in the windows, "WELCOME STUDENTS." Reaching the corner, I think of the crossing guard that stood with the children every day, a nice woman who was there all of the years that my son attended that school. Town budget restraints have cancelled the crossing guard details, so the crosswalks are painted in a new lime-flourescent green, presumably more visible to drivers. I hope there is more education with the kids when they cross the street alone, though with this school, most of the children are accompanied by a parent walking them to school.
I am home, to my humble abode, and my knees and ankles are sore, my heart rate is elevated, but I am satisfied that my walk was a good one. Now, I look forward to walking again tomorrow, and to see, hear and smell all that is along my path.
Thank you, gentle reader, for walking along with me.
À bientôt,
|
The air was crisp, like a late September day. I set out from my home and crossed the busy street to begin my walk. I tried to relax and take in the sounds and the scents from the walk, so I could remember those when I was not able to walk.
I passed my neighbor's house, laden with crimson and peach roses, the scent of lavender mixed with the sweet roses. It was early enough now to feel cool, so although I was facing into the warm sun, it wasn't heating me up. The breeze washed across my face like a cool facecloth. I was a half mile into my walk.
I thought about the Australians and their description of a long walk being a "walkabout." I thought that was what I was doing, being about but on a defininte course. It was easy when concentrating on the things around you to not think about what you brought with you. In the distance I heard a circular saw, and imagining a homeowner working on a new project. The breeze brought waves of heated air toward my nose now, but shade lie ahead in front of the apartment buildings. The sounds of children playing made me stop to listen. What were they playing? The giggly girl, the laughing boy, they must have been on a see-saw. I smiled and continued.
Close to an intersection, the pavement began to cook in the sun, and hot asphalt, mixed with gasoline, began to waft toward me. A big sign, "ICE" hung in the window of the convienence store, next to the lighted "Lottery" sign. A young lady stepped out of the store with a toddler holding on to her hand so tight. She cooed to him, I couldn't hear her but I saw the little boy's face light up. Such tender love.
I am crossing a bridge now, with the brook below a cola-colored trickle. I look beyond into the underbrush, and see a bird on the bank. Stopping in the middle of the bridge, I pause and continue to look. A turtle basks on the shore in a sliver of sunlight, and the bird moves off, skittish and tentative, to move to a nearby branch. She is looking at me now, so I begin to walk again. No cars are on the road now, and with only a distant sound of the trucks on the highway, I hear the brook as it slowly moves downstream.
I have walked almost a mile now, and am near to the intersection I will turn at. More cars are on the road now, stopping at the traffic light. The Krispy Kreme's "HOT" light is on, and I can smell the doughnuts in all their sweetness from across the parking lot. I pass a bus stop, where Dunkin' Donuts has two advertising posters blocking the view of the Krispy Kreme. It doesn't help when you can smell the signature confections in the air. Score one for Krispy Kreme, zero for Dunkin' Donuts here.
Rounding the corner at the one mile mark, the Burger King is gearing up for lunch and the smell of hamburgers reminds me of family cookouts of long ago. The charcoal grill glowing white hot, thick hamburgers at the hands of my grandfather, all combining into the perfect summertime rememberance. I thought back to listening with him to the old Grundig radio and the Red Sox games. That was Tony Conigliaro time and they always seemed to win. I never saw them in person or on TV in those days, but I did see them in my mind, listening to the play-by-play. I can still sing the jingles of the beer and gasoline station commercials too, "Atlantic keeps your car on the go!" and "Mabel, Black Label."
The sidewalk ends and I am walking now on a grassy median in front of some office buildings. Not a very scenic part of the walk, but this part still brings familar scenes, as I have walked this street some twenty times before. The old railroad tracks, long gone, still cross the street with black rubber inserts between the tracks. The health club, appealing to the "Fat" of the summer, and the health bar with the "best" smoothies. I pass the supermarket and climb a slight hill, looking at the cars in the parking lot and some, with people inside, eating and drinking their lunches. I am reminded that I too am hungry now but I will wait.
A right turn brings me to the road behind the shopping center, and I stay on the right to look down the long, grassy median that a gas or water pipeline runs through. A path worn into the grass suggests that it is a shortcut to somewhere, but to where? I can hear lots of birds here, in the trees that line the path on the left. I guess that the brook runs through here too, as I am beginning to parallel my walk going north now. I cross the street after waiting for a few cars to pass. People are crossing also, from the parking lot across the street to the post office. An older man sits in a car outside the post office, smoking a cigarette, and the clouds of smoke drift across the roof toward me. I move a bit quicker to avoid taking in the smoke.
Soon I am near the Catholic school, and the children are on the playground. Their chatter and laughter is heard some distance away, and I see some playing basketball. The bell rings, and they line up to return to class. I am behind some of the restaurants now at the shopping center, and a sweet smoky smell hits me as I round near Applebees. I am going to walk behind this block of restaurants to move up to the main road for the third mile of the walk. The heat cooks the garbage in the giant trash machine, and I quickly move away, up a slight hill, and realize I am out of breath when I stop. I rest for a bit, and continue to walk in front of a few stores, then cross the street to a residential side street.
I need to duck! The maple tree in front of this house has branches that lie a bit too low! A woman is watering her flowers, a colorful compendium of carnations, mums and phlox. The street opens into the sunlight again, and I walk a little slower. The main street is only a few yards from me, and the cars drive especially fast past the 25 mile-per-hour speed limit sign. Reaching the end of this side street, I am now on the sidewalk of the main street.
I walk across a bridge, and realize that this is the same brook that ran on my street. It looks like a lot more water here, and clearer to the bottom too. A frog is croaking somewhere down there, and the water makes a slight rushing noise. I am listening with my ear cocked, as the traffic is heavy for some reason. The sounds and sights of the brook make me smile. At that moment, four women, some in nursing garb, begin to walk past me. They must work in one of the office buildings that I passed. As they move by me, I smile, and I smell a faint flowery perfume from one of them. I imagine that she doesn't work with the others.
I am walking more uphil here, past the fast food restaurants and the wallpaper shop that I frequented long ago. The noise of the rushing cars accompanies the rush of air, warm and dirty past me on the sidewalk. I am in the shade now in front of a building, and slow down a bit to enjoy the cooler walk. It's about three miles along now, and I am surrounded by the noise and bustle of the city here. I will turn off soon to get back into the treed residential area.
A right turn, and I am back into the realm of houses and yards, instead of businesses and parking lots. A simple Cape displays an American Flag on a flagpole in its yard, with a ring of autumn-colored geraniums surrounding the base of the pole. I continue to walk around the corner and up the hill, and more kids are playing, this time basketball in the street. They are all a bit young, and thus height-challenged, but they are having so much fun that the laughter is contagious.
I pass another house with honeysuckle overhanging the fence, such a sweet scent, and observe the flowerpots hanging from the porch, with colors of red, orange, white, and yellow. Rounding the corner, I see a house surounded by a white picket fence. On closer inspection, this is one of those aluminum fences, perfect in its order and design. Close-up, it doesn't look as romantic as the typical white picket fences, with the various-sized pickets and the square posts holding up the garden gate. I think of a picket fence I stood in front of up in Rockport one year, its pickets split by flowers poking between, a cacaphony of color and sweet smells.
I am now one mile from my house, and am facing the sun for the remainder of the walk. I am tempted to stop by one of the convienence stores for a bottle of water, but am reminded of the little change I have in my pocket. The reminder of how much I need to work again. I press on, in the shade by the Baptist church, and under the trees lining the street. I am almost home.
I cross the street, which is sometimes a dangerous notion, but wait almost two minutes for the cars to clear. I am coming by the elementary school my son used to attend, and look up at the posterboard signs in the windows, "WELCOME STUDENTS." Reaching the corner, I think of the crossing guard that stood with the children every day, a nice woman who was there all of the years that my son attended that school. Town budget restraints have cancelled the crossing guard details, so the crosswalks are painted in a new lime-flourescent green, presumably more visible to drivers. I hope there is more education with the kids when they cross the street alone, though with this school, most of the children are accompanied by a parent walking them to school.
I am home, to my humble abode, and my knees and ankles are sore, my heart rate is elevated, but I am satisfied that my walk was a good one. Now, I look forward to walking again tomorrow, and to see, hear and smell all that is along my path.
Thank you, gentle reader, for walking along with me.
À bientôt,
|
