Sunday, October 2, 2011
Sunday Walk
Still no iPod for my morning walk (I think Max has my charger) so I am left to exercising while listening to the voices inside my head (which is not a bad thing since I came up with a few new ideas. The first half of my walk was dedicated to last night's house party in Everett in my old neighborhood on the street where Priscilla and I grew up. Lot's of fun talking to everyone there. Did I really have six beers? I blame Nemo and his "Kings" card game. Six beers definitely not on my Weight Watchers program (hence the walk around the block this morning). I passed lots of squirrels gathering food for the coming winter, reminding me I am due to write another chapter of the animals of the Fells. I wish I time to talk one of the guided woodland hikes some weekend before the cold weather gets here. I think it would be inspirational. The second half of my walk led to finalizing an idea I have for a Halloween story I can use for my Stoneham Independent column. I'd love to save it for my book of short horror stories, but I think I'll use it for the newspaper and I can always refine it later when I get the book together (cuz who knows how long that will take). The secret to writing is to write. Perhaps I should not take my iPod more often.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Walkabout
I've been walking around the block every Saturday and Sunday morning as part of my new healthy lifestyle. I try to notice something different each time instead of tuning out to my iPod (Blondie & Talking Heads mostly). Today my iPod battery was dead so I proceeded to walk with my ears au natural.
A soft rain was falling like teardrops from the sky. Not tears of joy or sadness, more like tears of indifference. The smell of the trees and grass rose up. It was the smell of the end of fall, of desperation, of knowing soon the winter would come and mask any green smells with its seasonal white out of sterility. There were few cars on the road. The houses I walked past were empty nests with nothing stirring behind the closed blinds. The zipper broke on my Red Sox sweatshirt, a fitting symbol for a crumbling 2011 team. I am rushing home to charge my iPod so this never happens again.
A soft rain was falling like teardrops from the sky. Not tears of joy or sadness, more like tears of indifference. The smell of the trees and grass rose up. It was the smell of the end of fall, of desperation, of knowing soon the winter would come and mask any green smells with its seasonal white out of sterility. There were few cars on the road. The houses I walked past were empty nests with nothing stirring behind the closed blinds. The zipper broke on my Red Sox sweatshirt, a fitting symbol for a crumbling 2011 team. I am rushing home to charge my iPod so this never happens again.
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