Friday, April 10, 2015

Just To Walk Is Good

I remember when I used to walk in town in the pre-dawn darkness and I would choose my routes to go past houses that I loved especially. Some for the way they looked, some for the way they felt. I could imagine myself living in some of those houses had I lived but a slightly different life. I can remember knowing in which houses people got up in early, their lights coming on and once I saw through a window as I passed, a father waking up his son. One tiny brief second and I will, for some reason, always remember.

Now I walk past trees that I love especially. That one above being one of them. It is not as large a live oak as many of them are here in Lloyd, but you can see its age in its gnarled branches and I love it. The house which some of the branches stretch over is abandoned now although when we first moved here, an old man lived there.
He is dead now and the house is beginning go fall apart. The tree stands watch over and beside.

On my last stretch today, I was walking past that house and the Sheik came walking out of the woods beside it. I knew he was coming from a road which lies behind it. I walk there, too. That's where I saw the rattler last week. We greeted each other. He was on one side of the highway, me on the other.
"Do you live back there?" I asked him.
"Nah, my brother does."
I wondered if it was the brother with the golf club who lost his eye in a bar fight but I did not ask.
"Okay," I said.
"How are you today?" he asked me.
I hesitated. "Some days are just harder than others," I finally said. "You know."
He nodded gravely. "Yes. They are."
I think he was probably on his way to Miss Liola's to check in. I was on my way to the post office and then home.
We wished each other a good day and went on our ways.

It is harder today. I do not know why. I slept ten hours last night and could have slept longer. When I woke up, I hurt everywhere, especially my legs and hips. A long-time chronic thing and obviously, it is not going to be the death of me. I don't hurt very much when I am taking my walks. My body just does it and mostly my mind goes away somewhere, to the book I am listening to, to the sky above where I see soaring hawks, vultures, the swooping pileated woodpecker, to the ground below me where I see the prints of animals, sometimes human footprints, to the woods beside me where everything now is so green, ten thousand shades of it as the new growth comes in, begins to grow into its summer maturity, the white blossoms of the blackberry in fields which have been cut but not for a year or two, the yellows and purples of the wildflowers.

The spiderwort. If I were a queen, I would wear nothing but gowns of silk or velvet in that exact shade.

And so I walk and sometimes I have to go a little ways into the woods to stop and pee and often, because of that I notice the tiniest of blooming things on the floor of the forest and the softest mosses, the fungi growing on downed branches. I always wonder what I am missing as I walk. Which animals are above and beside me, observing me even as I have no idea of their presence? I also wonder what the names of the plants and bushes I see every day are. Some, of course, I know. Most I do not.
Wonders and mysteries.

Now I'm home and Greta, my grand dog is here. She and Maurice are fine friends and touch noses upon greeting. Maurice slept with us last night, curled up, touching me. When I got up once and then got back in bed, she put her head to my hand and I scratched her until we both fell back asleep. She is a comfort to me. She is lying on the table now where I am writing this, Greta snoozes underneath. The magnolia leaves sigh in the breeze, the birds sing, the boys will be here soon, I am glad I have had my walk and I have taken Ibuprofen and it's probably going to eventually kill me but once I stop moving, the pain comes back and I am a human and would rather avoid as much pain as possible.

For this moment there is peace.
One cardinal sits on the feeder, two hens are beneath it.
I hear Trixie singing her hen song.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. We had wicked storms here last night. Being my father's daughter, I love to watch the storms rolling in, then sit on my covered deck to watch the lightning over our lake and through the trees. The storms and tornadoes came in spurts all evening long and regular TV was preempted by continuous storm updates. Today dawned with bright sunshine and temps about 30 degrees cooler. The pollen seems to have blown east and the air is crisp. Welcome to spring in Illinois!

  2. I feel as if I've taken a walk with you today, even through your beautiful mind.

  3. What an excellent "how are you" conversation. It is such an existential question. The trees here are suffering from the drought. It's a bit terrifying.

  4. "I wondered if it was the brother with the golf club who lost his eye in a bar fight but I did not ask."

    I could just read your blog all day long and lie on the couch eating Trader Joe peanut butter sea salt truffles.

    That poor abandoned house.

  5. We had our first spring downpour, it was a help with the remaining snow. My dog is unwell and has worms. I am a bit freaked out about it, but she's still alive and sleeping all day. I have given her two out of three doses of the medicine now. One of my geese keeps flying over the fence like a little Boeing 747, but more bumbling.

  6. Beautiful. Especially the mind picture at the end. So comforting and a day to look forward to.

  7. Catrina- I love storms too. I'd like them even more if we took down a few dead trees around here that one day are definitely going to crash right through the fucking roof. But I hear you. Storms are powerful and mighty.

    Elizabeth- I think of you so much on my walks that you might as well be with me.

    A- I remember some years ago here when I actually ran hoses to run some water on the oldest live oak in the yard. I knew it was fruitless but I had to do something. It is a horrible feeling, isn't it? May there be water soon for you.

    Denise- Aw. That makes me feel so good. Thank you!

    Big Mamabird- I've never considered rain as a way to help wash away the snow. My mind gets blown daily. What IS it with animals and worms? Jesus.
    I'd rather deal with snakes in the hen house. Truly.

    Jill- I just report what I see and hear. And feel. And smell. And touch. You know. Thank you.

  8. Seriously, Ms. Moon, it's as if we are cosmically related or something. It freaks me out how much alike you and I think sometimes. Half the time when I'm running in the woods, I'm wondering which deer I could see but am missing and my hip hurt like fuck last time. And then there's the bad days, of course...

  9. You are so in tune with the world around you, and you offer it to us like a gift. I'm so grateful to be here in your company.

  10. Beautiful you. Thank you. I loved this.

  11. Mwa- I used to run. It was agony. Now I just walk. Not quite as agonizing.

    Angella- You share your city, I share my swamps and woods. Makes me happy.

    Andrea- You are so welcome, dear woman!

  12. I miss walking. Thanks for sharing yours.

  13. Spiderwort! Is THAT what that is?! We have that at my mom's, too. I always called it trillium, but what do I know. I probably made that up.

    I'm sorry it was hard on Friday. I'm reading this a few days late, so I hope it's better now. (It seems to be, from what I can tell from your subsequent posts!)

  14. The ache in the body is sometimes worse on some days. An Advil a day seems to be my cure for now.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.