The night rain pattering on my window heralds, according to the weather report, some wintry weather with its attendant traffic jams, school closings, panicked grocery store crowds, etc.
I'm not thinking or worrying about any of that. I am just enjoying the soothing sound that will very shortly lull me to sleep.
The day began with clear skies; as the dogs and I walked out of the house I looked up to see dissolving pale white contrails from the day's earliest flights.
A crow flapped into my line of sight and landed in a neighbor's big honey locust, gripping a piece of food in its talons. It pecked away for a few moments before a brother crow -- showing off the species' thieving DNA -- swooped in and stole the morsel. I think it was a pizza crust. Victim crow clucked harshly and hopped to another branch and I watched their black shapes bob against that pale, but still saturated, December-blue sky.
We walked on and I noticed in a protected area by a neighbor's house, right at the entrance to the park, a forsythia bush that had been fooled by the warm fall weather into pushing out a few bright yellow flowers. They were frozen, but even in their limp shape their color stood out against the red brick wall behind them. I have seen this before. A few years ago, in the street level parking lot behind the Carnegie Museum of Art in Oakland, some ornamental cherry trees lining a sidewalk had decided it was time to bloom, although it was only February. I couldn't resist. I snipped a few branches on our way out and took them home to enjoy in a vase. It was such a tiny thrill to find them there, warm rose centers and pink-white petals, blooming in the February gray.
We pushed on through the park, dogs sniffing, me listening and watching. As we headed down the slope that leads over a little bridge, one of my neighbors' kids was walking up, headed to the middle school on the other side.
He is so cute, I don't know his name but he is very serious, very earnest and quite intelligent. He was wearing a jacket covered by the ubiquitous kid backpack and a cap with the earflaps pulled down and carrying a banjo in a black case.
Holli and Twist pulled toward him and he asked if we were members of the greyhound society. He has asked me this before, so to make things easy, I just said yes. He smiled, revealing a mouthful of braces and said: "Apparently they are enticed by the alluring scent of my banjo. I have to bring it today for a sound project." And, I didn't quiet get this part, but then he added, "and to prove to some doctors (?) that, yes, there are still people who play the banjo."
I wanted to tell him about Steve Martin, but figured there would be too much explanation involved, for which I did not have time. So I just smiled and then he said: "Well! Enjoy the rest of your walk!" And turned to head up to school.
I had to smile, a big smile. I wonder what it is like to be so young and so smart? So.... almost grownup. He can't be in more than fourth grade or so, but so droll and composed!
Thanks for the smile, sweetheart. You topped off a lovely morning walk that engaged nearly all of my senses. And the memory of you has me smiling again as I listen to the rain against my window.
