I wasn’t that keen on going out this morning but I decided that it wasn’t that bad and I would have the chance to take a new perspective. It’s raining, slowly, gently and steadily.  Perfect for all growing things, except worms.

The sidewalk was strewn with worms escaping the water saturated soil.  Most were fully extended hurrying to find a dry spot.  But everywhere was wet, wet, wet.

I fought the impulse to scoop them up and bring them home with me to my compost heap.  It is a trial effort going on in my garage inside a huge black garbage can.  It could use some worms, I think, though it might be too wet there too.  Worms are supposed to “process” compost like crazy, given the right conditions.

But I couldn’t bear the thought of them flinching and flailing when I picked them off of the sidewalk, their tiny little brains sensing impending doom.  If I had had something to carry them in, I might have done it, this mission of intended mercy.

They will just have to fend for themselves this time…as they always do.

As I passed the backyard of a neighboring house, there were at least ten pigeons fluttering and hovering trying to steal food from a feeder designed for small songbirds.  Those big old birds looked oversized and out of place.  They must have been humiliated.  Where are the ladies with their sacks of cracked corn throwing handouts to the pigeons?  I don’t know but these featherbrains need to find a new feed trough.

All along the trail, I saw huge white mushrooms.  Where did these come from?  They have suddenly appeared in the lawns, under the trees, next to the sidewalks.  If they are disturbed, i.e. pulled up, they return in the same spot.  When they emerge from the ground, they push the soil up above them leaving a dirt pile. My spouse asked me how mushrooms spread and I’m not sure.  By their rhizomes?  By spores?  It warrants further attention.  I thought they only grew in moist, dark places, neither of which describe Boulder.  What other surprises do these fungi hold?

I looked up at the Flatirons and the top was hidden.  It reflected how I felt, with my head in the clouds, was I looking into a sort of mirror?  Obscure and foggy with wisps of haze wafting in the breeze.   Yep, exactly how I felt.

Yesterday was WINDY!! when I walked.  So today, in typical “lock the barn door after the horse has been stolen” fashion, I bundled up with a sweater and ear muffs (my ears hate the cold).  Of course, I didn’t really need either one; the wind was then, now was warm and still.  Funny, though, how my recent experiences color my expectations of what will happen next, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, sometimes with little effect.

If I try to pay attention to “now” instead of “then” how do my experiences change?

But does it discount learning if I don’t adapt?   Maybe.  If I take a reading of the indicators and feel “cold” and “WINDY!!“, then pack the jacket and muffs because I learned what not having them is like.  But if I just think what it was like yesterday without paying attention, I’ll likely have to lug them unused.

Today’s walk was peaceful and quiet.  I didn’t get out too early but since it is a holiday most people didn’t stir around until later.  The cool of the morning coupled with the clear sky made ideal walking conditions.

Since the environment was so peaceful, I tried to turn off some of the “noise” in my head.  All that self-talk distracts me from attending to the wide, wide world.  But it isn’t easy to make my babble go away.  Part of the trick is to recognize that it’s there, then to substitute it with something gentle.  It works…sometimes.

I’d rather listen to something else than all that jammering that I create.  I know that something better is trying to get in.  But I block the way.  I’ll keep trying, though.  It’s worth it.

Joy.  Today as I meandered watching the squirrels dart up and down trees, birds flit on and off the grasses, cats stretch and yawn, I couldn’t help but wonder if what I was seeing was joy.  Could what I’ve read in some science documents be true?  Do animals act only in response to drives for food, reproduction, or safety?  They sure seem to be having a good time.  Or do I project?

I’m thinking that drives are too barren for me to embrace totally.  Even if I anthropomorphize, isn’t believing in a smidge of joy better than thinking too mechanistically?

I’m not sure what harm it does to believe that animals experience joy.  But I do know that they give it.

Another different route today, this time up, up, up the hill and then back down.  I went up slowly, taking my time.  Looking around, I admired the houses, saw some new construction and landscaping, and then, I stopped in my tracks as something going even slower than myself crossed my path.  A snail was moving along the middle of the sidewalk.  He was fully extended moving at his own pace.  But where was he going?  There were tall plants on one side of the walk and grass on the other.  What would motivate him to seek a new venue?  What signals was he paying attention to?  How would he know when he got there?

I stood and watched him move along his slippery train for a while, but he didn’t change directions just continued right down the center of the walkway.  Taking advantage of my height, I checked in front and behind to determine if he was in danger of getting stepped on.  No immediate danger, so I headed on my way.

His determination and persistence keep coming to mind, though.  I hope he found what he was looking for.

Today I took a different path which I would have thought would stimulate all sorts of new observations.  And I walked it twice, which doubled my opportunities for seeing something attention grabbing.  Psyched for the route, I headed out early, tuned and receptive.

The air was cool but the sun was burning hot.  I let my gaze wander over the terrain looking up and looking down.  I listened for sounds different and unusual.  My nostrils quivered hoping to smell an unfamiliar aroma.  My tastebuds were in anticipation mode awaiting the iced coffee at the end of my trek.

I went.  I came back.

I have nothing more to report…but I did pay attention.

Today I took a five sensation walk:

smell…the dry grasses of the fields

touch…the cool air of a pocket beside a hill

sound…the thirty squawking pigeonsflying from a rooftop directly towards me

sight…the furry neon yellow caterpillar crossing my path

taste…this one is tricky…I’ll have to think about it…

Sometimes those around us are difficult to understand.  Today on my walk, I looked up and saw the moon hanging over the Flatirons.  It was wispy and translucent, like the clouds around it.  Nothing about it looked solid or enduring, appearing more like a pile of soap bubbles that could easily be dispersed by a puff of wind than like a ball of rocks and dirt.

Surprised to see it there at 8:30 a.m., I thought of how often I admire the moon but rarely know where to expect to find it in the sky.  Its movements are foreign to me despite many years observing it.  Even from night to morning, it traverses a path that I cannot predict.

Is it a problem of attention?  In part.  Could I learn the trajectory of the moon throughout the year?  Of course, as its path is well know.  Why don’t I take the time to then?  Ah, therein lies an interesting question that I cannot answer; there are a myriad of reasons.  For now, let’s just say that I like surprises.

Today is the first day of the new school year.  As we live practically across from the high school, the increase in number of cars parked along the street was noteworthy.  The odd thing was, though, that I saw no people.  I suppose everyone was in the school getting their work done, but I would have thought there would be more coming and going as things were just gettting organized.

The first day is always a little jittery…new schedules, new faces, new expectations.  It won’t take long, though,   and it will all be familiar again.

Oh yes.  I saw the police stationing the automatic speed monitor at the end of the street.  I hope no one gets a rude reminder of the speed limits along the route in front of the school.  Welcome back!

It is raining steadily here for the first time months. While we have enjoyed a few cooler days recently, most of the summer has been relentlessly sunny, translated as hot and dry. So why wouldn’t I run out into the rain screaming for joy? Why am I staying holed up in my house unwilling to get my little footsies wet?

I don’t know. If I get myself worked up for a stroll, I’ll come back and add something. In the meantime, I am cozy and dry resisting the outside.

At the end of my walk, I returned home to find four crows in the yard and the street. They clearly were enjoying a repast of something, though I couldn’t tell what it was. Did someone drop bread for them? Maybe something spilled headed for the dumpster? I couldn’t tell. Then I heard a cawing overheard. I looked up and saw eight crows on the roof of our house all eating the same tasty morsels. Suddenly one of them dropped the snack and it rolled down the roof and onto the deck. Ah! Small apples! Now I understood how those rogue fruits found their way into our small garden! Thanks fellas.

What a good walk…I made a new friend!  The white and gray cat up the way came out yesterday and today for a good ear scratch.  She seems sweet and does like the attention.  I confess that I enjoyed it too.