Walked to work this morning, and in addition to a large serving of smug, it was a spectacularly lovely walk. The birds were singing, the new born leaves smelled wonderful, and the sky was the deepest blue. That was the first half. The second half was, by necessity, on street level because I left late and had to opt for a shorter route. However, the less than dulcet sound of traffic was easily drowned out by the entirely dulcet and far more edifying sounds of Mark Knopfler on my iPod Touch.
Walked home through the legislature and then doubled back through Skunk Hollow. The lilacs are a few days away from bursting into full purpletude. At the moment, they look like bunches of tiny grapes. Both walks were uneventful, but deeply pleasant. Especially the morning. Nice walking with Mr Robin and Mr Knopfler.
Thank you assorted Forest Gods and Godettes for not allowing the wind to persuade you to whack me in the head with a falling branch. Although the creak in the canopy was very ominous, I escaped harm. The trails, however, are littered with debris, which is not necessarily a bad thing. The wind clears the trees of dead branches, which provides a very nice crunch underfoot, and all us skin-types get a light dermabrasion. Wind is nature’s apricot scrub.
On the weekends, I don’t wear my watch. I just keep on trucking until I feel tired, which today was about two and a half hours. One end of Mill Creek to the other, and over to McKinney. I swear it was greener on the way back. It’s certainly much greener than it was on Friday, and a lone May Day tree by the Muttart is in full bloom. Lots of dandelions too, which in my opinion is an unfairly maligned flower, or weed as it is more commonly known. I think they’re beautiful. The smell in the river valley right now is unbelievable. This is the part of Spring where change is fast and dramatic. Edmonton will be a transformed city in a week, and all our complexions will be glowing.
So full of promise and yet, so persnickety, so hard to love. When you’re not being brown, you’re being windy. You collapse into brush fires, you snow when you should rain, and you hardly rain at all most years. And just when everything turns lovely, summer rolls in and we forget what a long, troubled path it was to get there. The good news? You smell good. Really good. And you are all about potential, and that makes you the most relatable of all the seasons.
Long walk yesterday and a shorter one today, with bonus hair re-styling. A bit 80’s, but whatevs…the grass is green and the leaves are starting to unfurl. Two weeks, when my holidays start, things will be lush and blooming. A disturbing amount of mosquitoes on the trail but it was more of a swarming than a land n’ bite. (Hello dragonflies? You are needed. Please return.) In spite of the infestation, we could really use some rain. And a lot less of the blowy stuff.
When Bad Things Happen to Good Computers (under the High Level Bridge)
Not able to walk through the McKinney/Muttart corridor today. The area is being investigated by KARE, the police unit in charge of missing people, especially prostitutes. Specifically, they’re looking at Henrietta Muir Park. I almost always feel safe in the river valley, but this tiny park east of the River Queen dock and south of the Cloverdale walking bridge does make me a little nervous. It seems to attract the slightly unsavoury, but it does have a drinking fountain and it’s fringed by the Horticultural Society flower beds, so it’s not all bad. I mostly ignore it.
Unfortunately, this is not the only piece of bad news out of the river valley this weekend. A soldier named Richard Curnow went missing while on a run between Hawrelak and Kinsmen. Hard to say what happened, but I’m almost certain the river path near Emily Murphy Park is still covered in thick ice. It takes a very long time for it to melt because of the steady run-off from the hill and the trail’s isolation from the sun. About ten years ago I slipped on the ice and fell into the river, but that was in winter and the water was frozen. I hate it when things like this happens in the river valley. It’s such a benevolent space, and yet all kinds of human stuff, bad stuff, can happen down there. Not often, but sometimes. In the end, it’s reassuring to know that nature endures.
A pleasant walk today, but many dodges, including Scona Road. I may start walking to work. I used to do this, and it might be time to start again. Good hair is overrated. I guess.
It felt like summer on my walk this morning. In spite of the relatively low temperature, it was wonderfully warm on my back, and folks were out in their t-shirts and shorts. I was even buzzed by a fat bee. Not a lot of green around, but the creek has its summer bubble on and freshly dipped dogs are back on the trails in full force. For almost the entire two hours of my walk, I was surrounded by butterflies of the orange persuasion. A few yellows too, fluttering a few feet in front of me, sometimes alighting on the ground, but never for long. At times it felt like an escort. Maybe they’re on to me.
Started my walk in Rossdale and hiked a loop around north and south Mill Creek. Trails were full of people. Glad I walked this morning. Yesterday, I had planned an afternoon walk and it rained, which is the forecast for today too. Caught up on some reading and visiting instead. Didn’t want to miss the sun again today, and I was not disappointed. It was bee-utiful.
Well, one, actually. And it wasn’t a long walk, just a ‘business’ walk on behalf of his otherwise engaged owner. Still, he was friendly with the other dogs, avoided the rabbits, and was in all ways an affable walking partner. This is a dog that was born to run, but is also a champion napper. Happily, he was content to walk around the ball field a couple of times, pose for a few pictures, slurp a mouthful of water, and head up to bed to wait for his mum. Good doggie.
After I tucked him in, I continued on my walk, which was largely uneventful until I reached the top of Scona Hill. The sidewalk is still open, but showing signs of its imminent demise. As I made my way up the hill in my usual oblivious state, a dog wandered by on my right side. No owner, no collar. I looked ahead and saw a woman, so I asked if it was her dog. She shrugged her shoulders. The mid-size, reddish dog was sniffing around the construction materials and not looking particularly concerned about the rush hour traffic a few feet from his nose. I walked up to the woman, who was incidentally holding a bottle of windex and some paper towels in her hands, and she explained that while she was cleaning windows, she saw the dog run across the road. Without dropping a single cleaning product, she ran after the stray, but the dog was unresponsive to her calls. I offered to try, so I wandered over to where the dog had been and whistled but he had already disappeared into the ravine. I walked farther down the hill and called for him, but the dog was gone. Obviously, he was determined to take advantage of his (hopefully) short-lived freedom.
The woman and I chatted on the way back to her house (with the partially clean windows) about stray dogs in the neighbourhood and how we both hoped this particular stray would have his adventure and then head back home. And then we talked about our cats.
So, my hour long walk took about 90 minutes but what it lacked in speed it more than made up for in dogs. I do hope that wandering mutt is OK. Best of luck, doggie.
