hi honey, i'm back

 My walks are becoming a moveable feast what with windfall apples and pears at the least. Half a mile north is the house with the tree drooping  over the sign reading, “Pick figs.  They’re free.” Over this fence crawls a bramble of berries. In that vacant lot is a tree full of cherries. Next to the street in the shade of the trees is a pile of zucchini with a note, “Take some.  PLEASE.” You’re bombarded with plums if you stroll down that hill. Hanging over the sidewalk is fennel and dill. Don’t steal a tomato.  That’s really so rude when, wherever you turn, you’re surrounded by food. I can snack my way out, and then nibble back home. It’s a moveable feast, wherever I roam.

It's so nice to take my walks in the morning.  The light is gorgeous, the air is cool, my fellow walkers are cheery, and the roses are as fresh and perfect as can be. Today I met two friendly kitties at the free figs house.  Friendly kitties are such a bonus.  I met one yesterday who wanted to follow me home.  Wish I COULD bring all the friendly kitties home, but the kitties we DO have don't think they get enough loving as it is. These morning walks are becoming a moveable feast.  Windfall pears and apples, low-hanging prunes, ripe blackberries!   Fennel, mint and lemon balm growing as weeds.  Lush and delicious August.  But autumn is pinching light off both ends of the day.  There's a poem in there.  I'll leave it alone and let it ripen for a while.

  I am thinking about how time has changed.   When I was working, it was sectioned into neatly defined, separately identified bits.   I knew the shape and size of 7:30 Tuesday morning, and where it fit into my day, my week, my life. Every minute interlocked with all the minutes surrounding it like distinct pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I recognized ten AM without looking at a clock. My body could feel when it was 3:15.   Every day was distinct and unique. And colors - blue Monday, gray Wednesday, Carnival-colored Friday at five, drowsy brown Sunday afternoons in winter, every day and time had it’s own distinct hue and texture.   Thursday was nothing like Wednesday, and Saturday was not just a different animal, but an entirely different species. But since Covid, time has become amorphous; a pale beige, elastic blob like well-kneaded bread dough.  Morning stretches seamlessly into afternoon and I’m still in my bathrobe.  The days of the week are not Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc.  I

  2.2 miles on my virtual tour of the Great Ocean Road. I have made it to Lorne, and I want to stay at the grand Pacific Hotel. It's a vintage colonial style with lacey iron railings along the verandas making it look like Miss Havisham's wedding cake. And such views it has! If I were to stay there, I would also go have lunch at the Swing Bridge Cafe which has pictures of some awesome looking pub grub. Portobello mushroom grilled with two eggs inside and garnished with fried onions. YUM! One of the delightful things I have noticed about these ocean views is the magnificent cloudscapes. Giant fat squally thunderheads floating in a blue sky over a blue sea. Around here, clouds usually are more like layers of lint. But those Australian clouds are sculptural. There are rubicund goddesses lounging atop those pillowy mounds, and at the bottom, torrents of rain hammering remorselessly down on an ocean that can't be bothered to notice such nuisances. My walk would have been

  2.1 miles today. Yesterday was a lazy day. Breakfast and fun time with friends. Too hot to walk by the time we got home. Crows are molting. I found lots of feathers, which make wonderful cat toys. I wrote a poem about it a few years ago. Feather Found A-wing, aloft, a lift of breeze-borne light drifting down, a pinion loose and shaken free. How did it feel, molting your flight feather? Was there a ping of pain when it lost its socket, or did it slip away unnoticed? Are you lop-sided to your right? Do you miss this one fine device of many, or does the change whistle timely through your hollow bones?

Today, Breakfast with the Williams and knitting with MJ.  No walks.  Sunny warm, but not too hot. 75 at noon thirty.  Chris Herron likes my walking posts.

  Three miles today! I put Gatorade in my water bottle. wonder if that made half a mile difference?   Today I focused on sounds. Quite eye-opening. (ear opening?) Of course there was the persistent hum of distant traffic. We are under the flight path to the airport, and several jetliners droned overhead. In the distance, I heard a train whistle. Window air-conditioners whirred and rattled. It was after 8 am, so occasionally I heard hammering, and once the song of the law nmower was heard in the land. Children laughed in backyards. Birds- oh the birds! Chickens buck-bucketed. Crows brayed, cawed, croaked and urked. Starlings chittered. ( More than two is called a murmuration of starlings.) A woodpecker hammered on a telephone pole, which resounded wonderfully. Dogs barked. And then I heard something - I knew I had heard it before but never in a city. I followed my ears and found - - You're not going to believe this - - I mean, brace yourself. What would you expect in a beautiful sub

  Another 2.4 miles today. Yay me! Over 20 miles total so far. It's like knitting. Doing a little bit over and over adds up and eventually you have a blanket! About half a mile down the hill from our house is an area where a couple of peacocks are running wild. I spoke to a lady out watering her flowers, and she said they've been there for years. And, like roosters, they greet the dawn with their joyful cries. However, a joyful peacock sounds like a screaming demon braying in agony. Someone new to the neighborhood is going to have some startled awakenings. I'm amazed that the peacocks have wintered over successfully, but free range birds do know how to find shelter. The neighborhood cats are cautious and respectful. On my virtual walk, I have been strolling along above the Lorne Costal Preserve, am up to the East viewpoint, and approaching the Devil's Elbow. Oh how I wish I could share the photos here. Rugged, wild, exotic rock stacks standing out from th

     I opened the door this morning and discovered that it had just started to rain. The smell of the earth when the rain starts is called petrichor. I inhaled petrichor till I was dizzy. It's one of my favorite fragrances, right up there with baking bread, frying onions, and lavender. So, on today's walk, I focussed on smells. The flowers, like roses, exhale best after a long hot afternoon, but in the rain, other aromas rise to the nose. Russian sage is especially clean and sharp. And the glory bower tree I passed under seemed to have distilled its perfume to linger under the leaves. I could swoon with the tropical sweetness of it all. 2.3 miles today. On the virtual challenge, I am up to Fairhave, Victoria, Australia. They have an awesome beach, and a Bed and Breakfast with a house on a pole, called, oddly enough, the Pole House.     Yesterday, Chrysalis celebrated Earrings day. (not a proper holiday. Just our own fun thing to do. Since we are zooming, crazy soc

    Roxie was sick today, so Donna led our little crew.  Not as spiritual or " yoga-ish" as I wanted.  And only .35 miles today.  The challenge wouldn't accept less than a mile, so I called it a mile, figuring I can walk at least .65 miles just trotting around the house.  Hey ho - this will test my resilience when dealing with setbacks.

Another 2.5miles today and on the virtual challenge, I am traveling alongside the ocean! Enjoying my walk today. This gardener left the artichokes go wild.  The plants are about ten feet tall.  TEN FEET! Most of the trees in the neighborhood are maples, but there are a few mighty oaks like this beauty. I don't know who owns and maintains these stairs over by the Llewellyn School, but I do love them! A chicane at the top of the stairs.  Wonder what other people call these. A bold young cottontail shared my path.

     2.9 miles today, but I'm going to have to dig out the knee brace. Still, yay for me!  Walking on the weekend lets me discover neighborhood garage sales.  I picked up two new baskets (as if I need more baskets) from a free box.  AND, I met a sweet monster of a malamute.  He was at least a yard high at the shoulder, and his coat was about six inches deep.  And STINK?  He was one whiffy puppy!      Over by the school, a young fellow was watering his garden, and I asked him to give me a spritz.  He laughingly obliged.  It felt SOOO good.      I walked through that vacant lot on 32nd.  I had forgotten how vast it is.  At least three full-sized lots, just sitting empty and growing grass.  Wonder who owns it.  It's been empty and vacant for 25 years now.  And up on 34 just off that street is the house with the persimmon tree in the front yard.  Wonder if they might be open to sale or trade?      I continue feasting on our figs. They are ripening oddly, though. Many of them are fe

     Another 2,2 miles today.  If we ever get chased by aliens or zombies or something, just leave me with explosives and a deadman switch, because I'll just slow you down.  Still, it all adds up and I have completed 5% of my journey.  I haven't caught sight of the ocean yet, but I am coming up on the angelsea landfill right now.     As for the route today, I just kind of wandered.  It was overcast and cool, and I almost needed something over my ears.  I do enjoy walking through our neighborhood, though.  Older houses with well-grown yards, brand-new monster houses taking up the entire lot, with no yard to take care of, well-grown old trees and freshly planted landscapes.  Little kids waving from the windows,  people who are happy to let me pet their dogs, cats watching my passage with great disdain, and oh, so many folks keeping chickens.  There's a house down on 42nd that has groomed their yard to a fair-thee-well this summer.  tomatoes and clematis and herbs all over.  C