Blue sky and night rain

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.

Keeping normal

My husband and I have often asked each other, since August 2001, when we adopted our first greyhound, Anni, how we ever lived without dogs.

Without, for example, the lovely yellow dog, Holli.

Well, for one thing, there was a bit more

sleep. And a bit more money. We also didn't know the fun, pleasure and joy we were missing. And the new rhythms they would bring to our lives.

I can't say I get a lot of exercise walking my dogs. I'm often a scarecrow, arms spread and lengthened by leashes, with one dog sniffing in one direction, one in another. We stop, go, stop, go. I sometimes try to imagine the worlds they bring into their brains through their noses. But I like focusing on them, on what fascinating things they see, smell and hear. I've learned to go at their pace (Cesar Millan would not approve) and as they investigate their world, I take the opportunity to ponder and observe mine.

My husband has been in the hospital this week. Family, friends and coworkers have been tremendously supportive, offering comfort, coffee dates, dinner, prayers and pet care.

I've turned down the generous offers of dog-walking because it's one thing I can do that is normal and routine.

Tonight I came home late after being at the hospital. It was dark and I made a phone call to my sister Elizabeth before bundling up and heading out with Twist and Holli.

Finally night has become cold -- my finger tips were chilled even through my thick gloves. The moon was a watery white disk faded among slate black clouds streaked with silver. There was a sharp scent of chimney smoke in the air, and, for a change, no owl could be heard hooting.

I like listening to the dogs as much as I enjoy their company. Twist likes to make the occasional snort into a pile of leaves. Holli has a deep-into-her-chest pant. As we walk, their toenails click click along the asphalt of the street.

Home again, both expectantly wait for their post-walk, pre-dinner treat. Inside, we all still wear, ever-so-briefly, the pungent drift of smoke from the cold night air.

Music of the days of the week

Finally, we are in Indian summer.

The moon tonight was a misty crescent sliver and I listened to the slick whoosh of traffic on a rare evening walk. Then kids and parents cheering, screaming and laughing at school ballfields, the "poom!" of foot hitting soccer ball, owl who-whoing and me enjoying being alone with my thoughts, emptying my brain of the day's tension.

Walking down Mayfair at the end of the walk, dusk descending and the traffic noise gone was as good as taking a very deep breath, closing eyes and just leaning back.

This week, half over, has been a good one for recording sights and sounds.

Monday, I experienced the doctor's office shuffle. I sat, slightly dozing, in the waiting room. Office in a new building with lovely light and view. All patients spoke to the receptionist in quiet tones, she responding cheerfully.

What impressed on my brain was the shuffling kind of sound feet make at the doctor's office. No one moves fast, no one has the expectation of speed or efficiency (tho my doctor's practice is a model for both) and so the rather forlorn attitude of supplicants, hoping for attention sooner rather than later. All conversation, with the exception of the banter among the office staff in their fortress, is muted.

Tuesday, early, I turned off the beeping alarm, pulled on a bathrobe and began the morning's light chores. Pick up paper, turn on coffee, fill pets' dishes. Get ready to walk the greyhounds.

I had just gotten up and was peering outside from the front door to scope out the newspaper's location on the driveway. A house sparrow perched on the railing around the front stoop, chirping away in the grey morning. Twist heard it, too, ears perched forward, nose close to the window.

The little bird chittered away for a few seconds, then flitted off. In the grey morning, it sounded so clear, so sweet.

I like those moments, especially to start the day. They are like anchors. When you feel as if you are flailing in the demands of the moment, it is lovely to have a calming place to check in to.

Thinking, comedy and shopping

I started this because I wanted to write every day. Hmmm. Maybe every few days will have to do. There's a comic named Koi (spelling?) on TV trashing France. Sorta funny. But he's wrong. The French are nice.

Like I said earlier, I wish I could have a machine or something attached to my brain to record my train of thoughts.

These two girls are my companions when I do my thinking. The greyhounds and I spend a lot of time in the park by my house. They sniff everything and I think about lots of things.

What a lazy weekend. Slept in on Sunday then ran a couple errands (namely getting my glasses fixed for free at Lenscrafters) that resulted in me spending a couple hundred bucks at the mall. Shoes, purse, coat. Everything on sale! Yay! Course, its on sale from ridiculous prices. But I can still be sucked in. I bought a gorgeous red coat at J. Jill for 90 bucks to make up for not buying a truly, hugely, fantastically expensive red coutourier coat in Paris last fall. Hah!

It was a late morning on Sunday because we were out late Saturday night. Had tix for a Jerry Seinfeld show at the Benedum, but when I bought them, the only good seats were for the 9:30 show. Never again. Too late. I fell asleep. And I don't think it was because I was tired. Jerry just wasn't up to his usual standards. We left early. Wow!

I wanted to mention this link, sent to me by a coworker who's a real Internet miner. Doesn't play real well on Safari on my machine for some reason, but fine at work on my PC. Its safe for work and really, really Creative.

http://vimeo.com/2554266