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Along the walk of life
Apr. 17th, 2010 09:03 pmEven in my morning fog - when I walk without thought, just following my feet to work by the same route as every morning - I still notice so much just by virtue of moving so slowly by it. Even on a bike, there's just so much you can just glide passed without having the time to see.
Walking is a part of a "slow life"; the only part I'm good at practising on a regular basis.
I love looking at the gardens. My favourite yards are those that are more wild, with local plants and driftwood and found metal fences. I also love weeds; the abandoned plots of dandelions. And, of course, the cherry blossoms have been gorgeous this year. One street, the flowers are so thick on the trees that the branches are arcing over the sidewalk. It's like walking under a canopy made of tiny pink petals.
I see a lot of posters on my walking commute. There are a lot of homemade ones posted in my neighbourhood: political causes, local bands, conspiracy theories, protests, and various events. I see a lot of missing pet posters. It breaks my heart to see the photos of missing Fluffy or Rover and the pleas for their safe return. I read all of the posters, because one day I might spot one the lost pets or want to go to a dance at the community centre.
There's also a lot of death along city streets that drivers and cyclists probably miss.
After the gym and some errands yesterday, I walked home. It was a good morning: I felt very accomplished, having worked out, done some banking, refilled my prescription, bought a new mat for the bathroom, and deposited some money for the Gathering. Normally I take public transportation home from the gym, but the weather was perfect for walking and I wasn't ready to be inside yet, not even in a bus.
I got to the bus stop about two blocks from home when I saw the poor thing: a cat's body just off the sidewalk. Hit by a car, probably. A black and white cat; like my cat. Small; like mine. No collar that I could see.
I rushed the rest of the way home and got on Russ' computer, trying to find what phone number I call so the body won't be there when kids get out of school and start walking to the park and the ice cream shop. Russ returned from the kitchen to find his paused game minimized.
"There's a dead cat and I can't figure out what to google to figure out who to call to come and pick it up, but once I figure out what number I'm supposed to call, I'm going to keep it in my wallet because I see a lot of dead animals on the street when I'm walking around and this is the first time I've found a domestic animal, but I've seen seagulls, rats, crows, squirrels, raccoons..."
And that's when Russ hugged me for awhile, which was better. Then I made the necessary phone call, and then I spent some time petting my cat.
I remember when our bigger cat, Puck, was missing for a couple of weeks. Our first wish was to have him home safe. Our second wish was to know for sure if he wasn't coming home. If there's someone to tell about yesterday's cat, I don't want to tell them, but I don't want them not to know either.
On Monday morning, I will be looking for a poster I don't really want to see of a small black and white cat missing from a neighbour's life. And I'll be looking at the dandelions and tulips.
Walking is a part of a "slow life"; the only part I'm good at practising on a regular basis.
I love looking at the gardens. My favourite yards are those that are more wild, with local plants and driftwood and found metal fences. I also love weeds; the abandoned plots of dandelions. And, of course, the cherry blossoms have been gorgeous this year. One street, the flowers are so thick on the trees that the branches are arcing over the sidewalk. It's like walking under a canopy made of tiny pink petals.
I see a lot of posters on my walking commute. There are a lot of homemade ones posted in my neighbourhood: political causes, local bands, conspiracy theories, protests, and various events. I see a lot of missing pet posters. It breaks my heart to see the photos of missing Fluffy or Rover and the pleas for their safe return. I read all of the posters, because one day I might spot one the lost pets or want to go to a dance at the community centre.
There's also a lot of death along city streets that drivers and cyclists probably miss.
After the gym and some errands yesterday, I walked home. It was a good morning: I felt very accomplished, having worked out, done some banking, refilled my prescription, bought a new mat for the bathroom, and deposited some money for the Gathering. Normally I take public transportation home from the gym, but the weather was perfect for walking and I wasn't ready to be inside yet, not even in a bus.
I got to the bus stop about two blocks from home when I saw the poor thing: a cat's body just off the sidewalk. Hit by a car, probably. A black and white cat; like my cat. Small; like mine. No collar that I could see.
I rushed the rest of the way home and got on Russ' computer, trying to find what phone number I call so the body won't be there when kids get out of school and start walking to the park and the ice cream shop. Russ returned from the kitchen to find his paused game minimized.
"There's a dead cat and I can't figure out what to google to figure out who to call to come and pick it up, but once I figure out what number I'm supposed to call, I'm going to keep it in my wallet because I see a lot of dead animals on the street when I'm walking around and this is the first time I've found a domestic animal, but I've seen seagulls, rats, crows, squirrels, raccoons..."
And that's when Russ hugged me for awhile, which was better. Then I made the necessary phone call, and then I spent some time petting my cat.
I remember when our bigger cat, Puck, was missing for a couple of weeks. Our first wish was to have him home safe. Our second wish was to know for sure if he wasn't coming home. If there's someone to tell about yesterday's cat, I don't want to tell them, but I don't want them not to know either.
On Monday morning, I will be looking for a poster I don't really want to see of a small black and white cat missing from a neighbour's life. And I'll be looking at the dandelions and tulips.
