Postcards from the Park:

Cold Walks:
Morning walks are hard now that winter is just around the corner. It has been dipping below freezing and to this old West Coast boy that passes for inhumane torture. However, I have decided to fight it and not let it get me down.

In previous posts I have discussed my walking attire, and I’m glad to report that it seems to be working. Though it has been hard to always remember to take my gloves. I walk outside, happy that being bundled up like this seem to be keeping the cold away, then I notice that my hand have gone numb. So, back to the flat I go to get the gloves. There is no way that I could stay out with cold hands. Unfortunately, this happens two or three times a week. I’m not sure if its just I’ve never worn gloves so the established habit is not there, or it’s the early onset of Alzheimer's.

As cold as it, is there are still all those runners out there in the running shorts. I still hate them.

Stay tuned to see how I handle rain. So, far I have dealt with that by staying in bed, cringing in my extra hours sleep. In that sleep I dream that I can hear those scantily clad runner laughing at me. They all seem to be carrying signs proclaiming, “Watch out, Fat Boy in Bed.”

So far it has only rained a couple of days but we are moving towards the rainy season. Somehow I will find a way to deal with that, I am sure of it. But, after rain comes the snow. (How about that? A great title for a book, “After the Rain Comes the Snow.”)

Acknowledgements:
Throughout the year I have commented on the rift between the walkers and the runners. That also seems to exist between the ages as well as the three sexes. Each of us, for the most part, sticks to acknowledgement of our own special groups. Walkers nod to walkers and runners nod to other runners, dog walkers nod to dog walkers and the three sexes they… well, I really don’t want to talk about that. The point being that each of our groups has their own code and we adhere to it closely.

It turns out that seems to be a fair weather code. Evidently applicable in warmer times only. As there are so few of us braving the cold I have been getting a nod from each person, regardless of affiliation, as we pass in the early morning dawn. I guess it is sort of a brotherhood of the insanely stupid, augmented by the dog walkers, who have no options. Who else would be out there huffing and puffing in the frozen hours before the full light?

It will be interesting to see what happens when it gets warmer. Will this fellowship continue or will it return to the tribalism that existed before? Will each of us recognize the other as someone who made it through the hard times and therefore is a brother under the sun.

I, the eternal optimist feel that this will be so. The possible exception being the runners. They are a weird group.

Autumn in the Park:
This morning I was out there, bundled and striding, but a lot later than usual. Normally I go out early in the morning trying to get at least an hour in before work. It starts in the dark and somewhere along the walk the sun comes up. Each morning my path takes me into the sunrise; I have to admit that is one of the best parts of the day. There is something about walking into the raising sun that seems so fresh and so new. I truly love it, and each morning is completely different. Some cloudy, some clear and some slightly obscured by morning ground fog. But, the park itself is moving from the shadows to the light and each morning I find joy in that.

Today I went out several hours later. The park, of course, is different in full sunlight. As it is autumn, most of the leaves have fallen and what hasn’t is holding on till the last second. All of the grass has gone from a deep green to a burnt auburn. I come from a place in the world where the seasons are more of a suggestion than a reality and I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at the beauty of the park in decay but I was.

It does have beauty. There are as many colors of autumn as there are colors of summer, and I guess of spring as well. I know that poets speak of the death of the world each fall and the rebirth in the spring, but until this morning I don’t think I ever really saw what they meant. At least, I understand the first part a little better.

For the first time in my life I am looking forward to winter. Eagerly I wait to discover the secrets and surprise that wait for me there.