Shortie

It is easy to recognize the call of a Barred Owl.   Most say it's a "who cooks for you" call.   Or something like that.   Sometimes they just use one short trill, but mostly they use the longer call.   Except for Shortie.   He only uses the short trill.   As I walk east, at about the one and a half mile mark, I often hear Shortie.   For the next half mile in any direction I can hear others answer him.

I like to think I'll hear him for many more years.   I don't know how long owls live but I assume I'll live longer.    Maybe I'll live long enough to see Shortie some day.   I'm sure he's seen me and my dogs.

The comforting thing about living and walking where I do is that it isn't necessary to see something to know it's real.   I guess that's part of something bigger than Dallas County.

What's in a Name

As I walk through my little section of Dallas County, I'm getting the urge to name the place.   It seems that nothing has a name (or at least they haven't told me).   I used to live in another part of Dallas County and it had a name...Bear Creek.   "Oh, you live out by Anker's in Bear Creek."   Right away folks knew where I was talking about and roughly knew where I lived.   A local small town paper even had a 'Bear Creek News' section.   Mrs. Cook wrote that.   "The Hopp's were visited this weekend by Paul's family from Hamburg.   Paul put a hog on the spit."

By the time I moved there the creek was merely a slough and no bear had visited the area for well over a century.   I liked that I lived in Bear Creek.

The Raccoon River is pretty far south.  I don't think Raccoon something will work.   The Skunk River is a way east.   Skunk whatever is not happening.   Maybe I should name the hollow and then name the area after the hollow.

At the top of the hollow the town kids used to sneak into the woods and do whatever high school kids need to do in private.   I'm sure they had a name for that part of the woods but the entrance was bulldozed and no one gets in anymore.   It probably wasn't that complimentary a name anyway.

Hoot Owl Hollow?   No, I can't tell folks I live in Hoot Owl.

I guess I'll keep walking until the name hits me or I move.

Small Town Boy

Today as I climbed out of the hollow and began my last mile of walking, I saw a light in the distance.   I see it many mornings but today it reminded me that I have nearly always lived in the country or in small towns and boroughs. 

The light was on top of a grain elevator at the coop.   In most of the towns in which I have lived, the tallest structure is either the grain elevator or the steeple on the Catholic Church.

The mayor usually has a full time job and a part time job and neither one of them is mayor.    The city council, the fire department, the police department, the water works and the women's auxiliary all meet in the same place and usually they must pull out the fire truck first.

The mayor and city council are all men.   The five smartest and five richest people in town are all women but they play no part in local politics.   In the borough I grew up in, if I wanted to run a mile I had to go from one end of town to the other...and then back.

I live in the country, spent my fair share of time in small towns, and I love going to the city.   That seems like the right balance.

Looking Down

While walking, I look up, around, behind me and ahead of me but it is important, in order for me to stay upright, to spend a lot of time looking down.   Gravel roads in Dallas County just aren't all that smooth and level.   I need to know what might trip me up. 

This is what I know from looking down.

Sometimes on the road I see a pile of feathers.    Some sort of kill occurred.   Two animals struggled and one lost and was hailed off.   Only the feathers remain.   Feathers aren't edible.

I see small dark spots and before I can clearly make out what the black spots are Patience and Violet have recognized them as dead moles.   We see dead toads and snakes but a mole is the treasure.    One of their favorite prizes to fight over.    I see large dark spots by the side of the road and my dogs and I recognize the large ones as horse droppings.   I pull my dogs away. 

I also do my civic duty by looking down.   Every imaginable thing made of metal is found on a gravel road.   It's a wonder anyone driving out there has air in their tires.   Every bolt, nut, nail, screw, hinge, and indescribable piece of metal I pick up and throw far from the road.    I'm hoping that karma will keep me from getting flats.

But all in all, I prefer looking up. 

History Walk

Twice in nine months I have walked in DC.   Checking Kim has a good job that allows her to travel while I tag along.   I like walking in Washington.   I can't ever believe I just walk around all those important and historic buildings.   I absolutely walk around in childish, wide-eyed amazement.   A couple things stood out this trip.

• There are enough Potbelly Sandwich shops to feed the rest of the country if we all decide to go there for lunch.
• The angled streets, of which there are many, are named after states and knowing that does not help you find anything.

I looked at a lot of people's faces.   Checking Kim believes I stare and point and scolds me regularly for being an embarrassment.   I think it just takes me a little longer to figure folks out.   This walk's observation is that people are much more attractive if they smile.  Even the tiniest grin lights up the most boring face.

I'm going to smile a lot more.

Sneaky Drought

Lack of water affects more people than just farmers and the folks that buy their crops.   Dry weather affects more than the cattle who eat he grain and the folks who eat the cattle.   The drought affects more than the folks at the coop and the locker.   Here is an example.

My friend Annie Oakley and her husband own a landscaping business.    He loves to landscape but pays for that love by moving snow in the winter and mowing grass in the summer.   The drought caused it to snow very little.    The drought caused the grass not to grow.  No work.

People that wanted to work, couldn't.    These same people wanted to buy stuff, they couldn't.   The stores they wanted to buy from wanted to sell more, they couldn't.   And so on, you get the picture.
Droughts are hard for lots of ongoing reasons.

I'm surprised the weather Gods even mess with my friend.   She's a tough lady.

Dark Side

The sun is getting a little sleepier each morning.   I need to walk a little longer to catch the dawn.   One of the positive things the drought has brought is clear skies.   I've noticed the waxing and waning of the moon more this summer than most others I remember.   It's a good way to mark time.

One of the experiences I'm having as I age is that clocks and even calendars move too fast.   It is much more consoling to mark time by the moon getting smaller and larger and by the planets moving higher or lower in the sky.

Another opportunity that the constant clear skies provided was enough extra daylight for me to start up my can collecting habit.    From time to time, for no special reason, I begin to pick up cans that folks throw on the road.   It's embarrassing to Caring Kim.   Then, without thought, I stop as quickly as I began.   Since in Iowa they are worth 5 cents, this summer I was able to collect enough for a beverage at Wrigley Field.

If you have ever bought a beverage in Wrigley you know I collected a lot of cans.

And Now the Drought

This is the first time I have experienced a drought.   I have lived through other dry spells but have been mostly oblivious to what was going on.    The media has covered the drought well.   We have heard about the crops and I have seen the October brown corn in August and the beans that just won't get any taller.   This dry spell I've noticed much more.

Experiencing the drought as a walker is a whole different thing.   For weeks there is no way to escape the heat; day or night, shade or no, inside or out.    It is always oppressively hot.    Then, as I look around, I notice all plants are sagging with the weight of the world on their shoulders.   Everything is wilting.

Along with the wilting is the changing of the colors.   The bright green leaves are no more.   The lack of water has turned them dull green at best, if not brown.   Then to make it more visually depressing, everything is coated with a layer of lime dust from the country roads.   The gravel roads are so dry that my dogs walking down the road can stir up a cloud.    I remembered that rain brought us water.   I forgot how much cleaning a good rain did for man, beast and plant. 

I didn't know it was possible, but every morning smells dusty.

I guess the thing that has impacted me the most are the wild flowers.   Some varieties have not appeared; some are very scarce, and some just look sick.   The colors were all impacted by the lack of water and the coating of dust.  

Maybe that's what everything smells dusty.

The Brief Masterwork

I gaze at the sky each morning and see a master painting.   The bottom of the painting is framed by the dark, irregular forms of tree tops on a close horizon.   The other three sides of the picture are framed by infinity.

The background is a black, blue, grey that seems nearly impossible to recreate.   The main character is a crescent moon; part  brightly shining and another part is seen as if behind a veil.   The supporting characters are  stars and planets.   Bright spots of brilliance that come in many sizes and a variety of brightness.

All of this makes a wonderful painting but it becomes a masterwork when the shooting star appears.   It arrives out of nowhere and paints it's bright linear glow in just the right spot.   Then, as quick as it appears, it disappears.

It is a brief masterwork for the eye but the vision stays in the mind forever.

Here Comes the Sun

Often, early in the morning, my dogs and I find ourselves headed west.   It's very dark ahead of me and I don't notice the sun rising in the east behind me.   What I do notice are the song birds beginning their melody.   I remember what that means and quickly look over my shoulder behind me to see the beginnings of color.   I like to think the sun is being trumpeted in by the little winged guardians.

One of the best parts of walking in the dark is the change.   Everything is in black and white.   Then as the sun begins to awaken, dull dim color begins to show.   When the sun does break and rise above the horizon, everything brightly displays its colors.

I think that's how this works.   For a large part of the rainbow I'm color blind.

Swim, Fish and Skate (2)

This weekend I walked upon two man-made ponds that were posted NO SWIMMING, NO FISHING, AND NO SKATING.   I rhetorically asked the question, "What is a pond for?"   A construction guy gave this answer:

It is not designed for recreation, it was designed to collect water.

I think that is crazy talk.   All ponds, lakes, creeks, rivers, seas, and oceans were designed to collect water.    In most cases the designer had amazing vision.   None of the God-made bodies of water were designed for recreation; we humans discovered that all on our own.

Then there are the folks who say "What if someone drowns?"  Well that's the whole risk reward discussion that can be had about anything including sleeping on the top bunk.

Fish eggs from another pond will accidentally attach themselves to the legs of bids, ducks, and frogs and eventually fish will inhabit these ponds.   I will sneak to the edge in the darkness of early morning with rod and bait in hand.    I will take a picture of my catch and hang it on the sign.

No one will know except my legislator.

Swim, Fish and Skate

Sunday's walk was 10 miles.  My dogs and I walked past a newly developed area.   I believe in the civilized world they call them multifamily dwellings.   Anyway, they look nice and I hope they are affordable.   They are just too close to the woods.   As I walked past this new development, I noticed that they built two ponds.

I like the idea of two extra ponds close to the woods...then as I got closer I noticed the sign.   NO SWIMMING, FISHING, OR SKATING.    What in the world is a pond for?   (I know a construction guy knows about this stuff and his opinion is the next post.)   I'm writing to my legislator!

Dear Legislator:

There needs to be a law.   I like less laws not more, but this is an exception.   It goes something like this:

All ponds that exist or ever will exist must be posted with the following sign:

PLEASE SWIM, FISH, AND SKATE.

Oh, and also, I'd like my dogs to be able to get a drink as we walk by.

Sincerely,

Walking Wild


(Post Script:

On the day that I'm feeling 'all that' for walking 10 miles, my oldest swam 1.2 miles, biked 52 miles and ran 13.1.   He's pretty cool.)

Friends in the East

I guess there are some positive things that come out of a drought (more on the drought later).   I never miss a walk because of rain or mud.   Because of the drought, nearly every morning is clear allowing  me to see all the stars, planets and the moon whenever.   I suppose it would be wrong to say your glass is half full when referring to a drought.

Clear sky's afford me a daily pleasure.   I walk with my friends Venus and Jupiter in the east.   I look up and there they are right above the horizon.   They provide some sort of comfort.    On the rare occasions when they are not visible, I get a little out of sorts.   It seems the older I get the more I need routines and patterns.

On a perfect morning, the eastern horizon display all the reds, oranges and yellows, the sky in the east turns a deep blue and my friend the planets are still brightly visible against the blue.   I look to the west and a full moon shines in a clear black sky.   That view is better than three fingers of bourbon and a fine cigar.   That view is better than...no not really.

Post script:

It appears in a recent post I referred to Caring Kim as Checking Kim.   Let me assure everyone, especially CK,  that the reference was a mindless error that will not be repeated.   And while I'm on the topic, I will never refer to Larry the Communicator as Carhartt Larry or Massage Ming.

Only in Iowa

It's been a horrible year for wild flowers.   The drought (more on this later) has mostly taken care of that.   There is a little color here and there, but not much.   That's what makes this post so cool.

Once or twice a year the edge of the road is mowed.   Some folks call this a ditch; I call it a road border.   Regardless, it gets a trim.   This year the mowing started from the far end of my lane and onward in all directions until pavement begins...miles.   I don't know why they don't mow along side pavement.

As the mower went on from my lane past The Farmer's house, it stopped for 18 inches and then resumed for miles.   A few wonderfully lavender cone flowers had sprouted all by themselves.   The county maintenance worker could not bring himself to mow these down.  He left this patch for all to enjoy.   It was an inconvenience for sure but I wish I could thank the driver.

These few are making it through the drought.