On my walk today I came upon two things that surprised me. One was a pair of shoes, perfectly good just lying in the grass beside the sidewalk; the other was a full glass of water sitting atop an electrical box next to the sidewalk.

What could have led to these things being left as they were? Was someone suddenly struck by the urge to go barefoot such that he shed his shoes and ran on? The shoes didn’t appear to have been fouled in any way, say by having stepping in dog doo. There were no socks. We can only speculate…

And the glass of water, well, I don’t know either. It looked like a clean glass taken straight from someone’s kitchen, though none were close by. Cool, refreshing and inviting, I can imagine it looking like a treasure to some hot and thirsty soul on a different day. Again, we can only speculate…

Isn’t it fun to wonder just why things might be out of place?

Two words from my walk: contrails and cows.

I looked up at the sky towards the Foothills and saw six white feathery lines marking where jets had passed. Falsely they appeared to come right out of the mountain like steam from a volcano. I wondered what the sky would look like if each plane that flew left a line in the sky. Immediately, those maps that mark the trajectories of airlines in the onboard flight magazines came to mind. How lucky we are that the sky isn’t littered with permanent marks from each airplane.

As I looked skyward, my nose picked up a familiar scent: cow. I scanned the field below me and found the cows have returned to the ranch just over the hill from my walking trail. All summer they were off on some distant acreage feasting on grasses of unknown delights. Now they have come home for the winter where the rancher can more easily subsidize their diet when the snows come and the ground is covered.

Then, as my mind wandered, my two thoughts merged and I wondered what the field would look like if the trajectory of each cow moving around the pasture remained as a residual line in the air.

I’m glad that history doesn’t leave a visible trace of either cows or contrails.

When I walked today, the sun had passed over the Foothills so much of the target of my gaze was in shadow. But when I looked up, the second ridge of the mountains was bathed in bright light. Like a spotlight, the sun drew my attention to the hilltop. Everything seemed to stand out–the trees, the rocks, the terrain. It seemed incredible since the sun had been “down” where I was for quite a while, but on the other side of the hills, it was still bright daylight.

Once the sun sets, the air cools and it feels like something is lost. Interesting what blocking the rays will do…

Why did changing over from daylight savings time cause such a disruption to my walking schedule? I’m not sure. I had been happily walking in the mornings but after the time switch (and the cooler weather, to be honest), I decided to try walking in the afternoons.

It’s not working. When I started the day with a walk, it got done; if I leave it until later, it’s dinner time before I remember that I didn’t hit the trail. And it’s dark.

It occurs to me that making any significant schedule adjustments takes time to acclimate. I can blame it on the time change or the weather, but isn’t it really about me not putting on my coat and heading out the door? Hmmm…is it all about me? I wonder…

Perhaps I should go outside right now, wonder and walk??