2024, October 19
It probably goes without saying that the cool weather which enabled my last walkabout over a month ago was short-lived. As it often seems to go, autumn was not destined to come upon us gradually. This week, the switch finally seemed to flip. It was so nice out that I was able to start my walk at three o'clock in the afternoon without fear of getting broiled alive by the sun.
I had left without putting on a hat, and, after being delayed by several last-minute outfit changes, I wasn't keen on going back inside to get one. Instead, I decided I'd avoid traveling West for now to keep the afternoon sun out of my eyes. This saw me walking South through downtown, which was loud and crowded from a few big outdoor events. One was a craft beer competition. It seemed like drinks were going relatively cheap, but I was in the mood for quiet more than anything.
Eventually, I made my way to one of my favorite neighborhoods. Tall, old trees formed shaded canopies and privacy screens for the colorful houses that lined the street. Mockingbirds were singing all over. It's the sort of place I imagine professors living. Tenure-track professors in well-funded fields, that is. It was really lovely. It made me a little sad too. I realized that I might like living in this town a lot more were I not priced out of places like this (or if the places I could afford to live had more greenery and less scorching, dusty asphalt).
I briefly got really excited to see a skinny tree collapsed across the sidewalk. As weird as it sounds, I had been waiting for the opportunity to vault over something. To my disappointment, it ended up being a little too bushy to cross in one flying leap, so I walked around like some kind of fool. From then on, I felt the need to perch myself on top of something. I vowed that I would not be disappointed again.
Making my way to the end of the street and looping back around headed North, I encountered a little historical installation. It was a big, mosaic-tile pillar covered with old photographs and various locals' stories from way back when, all pertaining to the nearby canals. One described how the narrator and his friends used to round up tons of watermelons from a nearby field. They used the deep-red hearts as food, the rinds as makeshift helmets, and the rest as ammunition as they ran around naked, pelting each other with the stuff.
My heart swelled as I encountered a bunch of cute little green acorns dangling from a branch. My stomach was preoccupied with another issue entirely, but I already knew what I would do about that. I stopped into the local pizza joint and got a couple of slices with broccoli on top and an unsweetened iced tea. (...All for just seven bucks plus tax!) There was even a little table with just one chair, so I made myself at home while I waited for my 'za. I resisted the urge to get out my phone and scroll, instead just staring out the front window and absorbing snippets of Bluey from the TV (there were a lot of families with children dining in at that hour).
Once I'd finished my meal, the sun was low enough that I could walk West towards the park. It was great to feel some soft ground under my feet. Even better, my perching aspirations were finally realized when I encountered the perfect mesquite tree! Its trunk snaked along the ground for ten or twelve feet before curving skyward. I immediately took a seat and got to reading for a little while. After a chapter or so of heady, contemplative lit, my mind was already full of inspiration. Suddenly feeling I had many things I wanted to do, I dismounted the tree and set my course for home.
Now the world was painted black and orange by mournful evening light. I couldn't help but feel wistful and nostalgic at a time like that, but that's not to say it bothered me. It's good to feel these things sometimes and to think about what they mean.
Oh, check this out: I saw some kind of a telecommunications utility box with all of its innards exposed.
And that about does it. I made it home in time to drink a Hamm's on the patio (finally in the mood for a beer, I guess) and watch the cats play in their enclosure as the sun set and the bats started their twilight dance. Pretty, pretty, pretty good.