Friends in the Country

I think someone is flirting with me. He’s sleek and real smooth. I don’t just love him because he’s black. Or because he watches me when I’m not looking. It’s a quaint flirtation.

I go for my 2 mile walk in the evening. I am usually eyes down in a book (yes, I do read and walk….and despite the many times I’ve been asked how, I really don’t have an answer!). Curled up in my right hand is the top of a Ziploc baggie. Inside is an assortment of goodies; peanuts in shells, cheerios, bread…whatever is on hand. I get to one of two of my landmarks. I look up and there he is. Pretending not to see me now. Or knowing that I can’t see exactly what his eyes are looking at since they are also camouflaged by his darkness. I say hi, tell him what I have for him. Then throw it down on the ground. I talk for a moment more, then walk off. I won’t look behind me until I’m a safe distance away. When I turn around eventually, he’ll be eating the goods. He saw me. He knew what I was doing.

When I come around the stretch, I look over into the horse pasture and see Crow there. He notices me and lifts off, flying past me on my right and perches to see if it’s still true. Is it true? Of course it’s true. Every time I see you. The familiar sound of the baggie opening, my hand grasping the edibles while I speak to him. Then I toss them down and tell him to enjoy. He and Red Winged Blackbird consult. I walk off, continuing with my book, knowing that in this little courtship ritual, I will turn around in about 30 seconds to see if he is enjoying my gifts.

A glorious work from home day yesterday.

We’ve been woken up with roaring winds and rain. For me this is the most perfect weather.

Sent the Humanling off to school and then my mate and I decided to have a quiet early morning date to ourselves before I started work.

Eventually, we lay, listening to the wind, knowing that the leaves are swirling around in the air above the grass, the driveway, the chicken coop. The temperature is mild and the air feels gentle and refreshing through a window.

The smell of coffee permeated the house since we had it brewing in our French Press…the only way we enjoy coffee for the most part.

There is so much to enjoy about a rainy day….grace periods for things we might not ordinarily do, simply because weather might dictate certain activities are deemed for tomorrow, when the sun comes out.

He went to walk his mom’s dogs. I sat quietly in the house, after a lunch of yoga, vacuuming and mail checking.

Christmas early yesterday! Two of the books that I had ordered came in….One of ravens and crows and one of the Harlem Renaissance. I love when a book that I hadn’t previously, is finally in my hands. To touch it, flip through the pages…explore it like you can’t quite do virtually with the kindles and nooks of these days. Yep, I’m a book fogie!

A second pot of coffee water boiled on the stove for our next round of steamy, warm sharing. He returned home from rain dog walking and it was then time to grind the beans.

I wrote this yesterday and then edited it today for time tense.

But what really happened is that yes, it WAS INDEED time to grind the coffee beans. However, the electricity went out and that 2nd pot of coffee had to stay a simple pot of water, cooling off in a dark house. We instead lay down and napped. Rainy days that bring surprises.

Although I can’t be home every day enjoying the moment to moment blooming that happens during this magical season, I am grateful that the corporate campus where I work has quite the mini ecosystem. As I leave the building and pass the truck docks, I soon come to a small gathering of pine trees, the majestic holders of their quiet corner. Underneath are pine needles is soft and a deep breath will afford you that earthy dirt smell from these microscopic woods. Further down, past the sections made for stretchers and toners where they keep horizontal bars and wooden stumps, is the opening to the pond walk.

This is where I usually become more alert. As a starving reader who can never have enough time to soak in the words of others in the written form, I taught myself by age 21 to walk and read at the same time. Ok, I realize that this post can very well end up on the Darwinian award pages somewhere on the net, but really, so far, knock on whatever is eco-friendly and handy, I have not tripped and lost my front teeth, my dignity or unintentionally shown my underwear. Nor have I simply tripped. Or walked into walls. There are some clever co-workers who have fun with it and will walk directly toward me, hoping to win that first Noun prize – the first person, place or thing that I ever walk into (besides a bar! Ha ha! Well I AM Irish.) Yes, they are so cute and clever and who can blame them? I’d do it too I suppose. And I realize they are doing nothing more than simply reaching out in their own way to make some sort of contact.
Although walking straight into them full force with a book spine is probably not exactly probably the most pleasant.

I digress.

Whenever I enter Pond Area, my walk becomes the most alive. There are, many times, two of whatever creature is stirring. Two ducks. Two geese. Two turtles basking in the sun. Many tadpoles right now. A handful of birds. But mostly, for me, the presence of a Crow.
I realize that many folks associate the Crow’s appearance as a negative thing. I happen to love black birds of all types, but the crow is one of them that I look at and wonder to myself if I will ever pet one. Yeah, I’m forty and I said I want to pet one.

Usually, I will see only one at the pond. It might not be there at the moment I walk into the area, but then I have fun and say lightly and sing songy, “Black biiiiiiiiird….”. And then Snow White shows up and tries to kick my ass for nature rights.

What really happens is that within 20 or 30 seconds of my being in the area, a crow will show up or show itself somehow. I’ll be close enough to it so that we are aware of each other. Then I’ll say “Hi.”. Plain and simple. “Hi.”

The crow stays a moment and then flies off. I don’t know why I find this amusing, but I do. And it happens every time I talk my walks at work.

Other times there will be a small club’s worth of deer standing around looking all Gangsta. Deer do look Gangsta in case you didn’t know. If there is one of you and eight of them, it’s not very hard.

I usually stop under a Sycamore tree at the pond and sit, cross legged underneath, put my book down and attempt to meditate for a few minutes. I don’t work for Google or Amazon.com so it isn’t some extended yoga session. It’s literally five minutes at the moment but very peaceful. If you’re worried about looking like some kinda DAMN fool while other co-workers are brisk walking and chatting with their work wives/husbands, then I can’t promise that you’ll escape that feeling doing such a thing at work. I usually wait until it is Off Peak time for mine. I eat at my desk while working so that I can enjoy my alone time with whatever author out with Crow, turtles and Deer and the Gang.

The somewhat amusing thing (and it has to be amusing because you can’t take life too seriously when it isn’t warranted) is the Sign of the Dead memorialized near the pond. A metal sign, posted in the ground like a grave marker with a number of metal plates on it. Some of them are inscribed with those who have worked here and passed on. After those are a good number of shiny, unused metal plates, just waiting for someone to come unscrew one, have it engraved, and put it back on.

I wonder to myself if those people retired first. I don’t know why that is a point of any kind, but the thought of them dying before retirement makes me wonder how much they lived.
And that’s the point of squeezing in walk time. That’s what I want to do. I want to read and walk on Off Peak time. I want to have what communication I can with Crow as it swings by and then flies in the opposite direction, like a game of chase when I say “hi.” I want to feel brave (or alive enough to feel plain stupid) for passing a pack of degenerate deer (you can’t prove that they aren’t) on the same side of the path. And I want to look as though I’m waiting for a local and organic apple to fall off a Sycamore tree while I meditate for a splash in time. It’s about living my truth as much as I can…all the while learning what my own truths are and how they change. Because life is impermanent and it is change in every moment. As the saying goes, You never step into the same river twice.