Ordinary dog walk in February

It was warm enough to pull off the hat and gloves, unclip the shawl, and ultimately remove the scarf. The chill air felt lovely on my ears.

I felt more gratitude when I bent to scoop up Finn’s business and the flopping shawl end did not land on the turds.

I’ve mentioned here that most houses on my loop show no evidence of life. There are some exceptions, like the Music House on Langley. Nearly every day, lush chords of classical music seep out from under the windowsills. Today it was piano. Dramatic. Lively.

At the Amazon House there are always signs of life, not just a regular stream of packages but a couple of strollers parked in varying configurations. Today for the first time I saw one of the children. A boy of about eight leapt across the floor behind the glass door delivering to me a flash of exuberant grace.

Finn did not bark at the brindle boxer across the street near the Terraces. The boxer was silent too. But that’s not what’s worth reporting. It’s that when I looked up from the canine interaction, there were the boxer’s two people wearing big gracious smiles. How nice!

It reminded me of the day I chortled out a big dog-hello to a little pup across the street while his person put something in the post. It was that “aren’t you adorable” voice. Imagine my surprise when his person chimed a big hello back. There’s a lesson in there but probably one this introvert is not inclined to learn.

This is all to say that spring is in the air. And because spring is in the air, my mind goes to yard crews. Already I feel dread.

But guess what? I’m creating a quiet corner in the basement in preparation of leaf blower season. I’m done appealing to homeowners, crews, and the city. Done! It’s going to be a lot of work, but it’s such a good way to take care of myself. The basement is the only space in the house (even with noise-cancelling headphones on) where I am sheltered from the sound.

Don’t laugh or feel pity. It’s at a start.