A Walk Through the Neighborhood

I live on the outskirts of town just west of the interstate in a PUD or planned unit development. There are no sidewalks in my neighborhood, but traffic is sparse and drivers are careful and courteous so I have no problem walking on the side of the street within my little community. As in most PUDs, there is one way in with the same way out.

Not being much of a structured exerciser, walking is my normal way of getting in that thirty minutes per day recommended by most primary care doctors. The weather and season determine the time of day for my outing. During this period of sheltering in place, it has become the highlight of my day. Other walkers carefully observe the six-foot limit for which I am grateful, and I have noticed that our numbers have greatly increased during this imposed stay-at-home phase.

Although barely noticeable in a car, abundant hills and valleys optimize the effectiveness of my walks. If I am feeling especially optimistic, I start out heading west which is immediately uphill. Other days it is east or downhill first, a short stroll to the main road, to get warmed up. Then, it is a turn-around and back uphill.

You may think that walking the same route everyday would become dull, but it never does. I am always seeing different people, some walking their dog, some with children, some walking (or jogging) purposefully, even some cyclists, skateboarders or scooters. In the past a nod or small wave of the hand sufficed for a greeting, but now almost everyone wants to pause a moment and chat (keeping that six-foot distance). Many of them seem to notice “how old I am” and want to make sure that I have everything I need, offering to help if necessary, making sure I know their name and where they live. They are so nice. Of course, the UPS man, Amazon Prime, FedEx, and the mail person always give a friendly wave and sometimes even a toot of their horn.

Things and people in the neighborhood are always changing with moves in and out, new roofs being put on, painting being done, landscapes being improved and lots more, so there is never a lack of new discoveries. Birds, squirrels, and flowers hold my interest and keep my finger on my phone for photos. I have even seen a fox and a coyote at different times. The coyote was so skinny I felt sorry for him and a little afraid. I have noticed a snake or two or three and always distance myself more than that six-foot minimum. My mantra is that if they don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.

It used to be that when I walked on Saturdays, I might pass by a garage sale or two, but with the social distancing I have not seen any for quite a while. They always made my walk more interesting and enjoyable. There is something about a garage sale that gives a nosy person like me a look into some stranger’s life that normally would not be seen. I always had a few dollars in my pocket on Saturdays and usually found something interesting to carry back home with me. A little shelf over my kitchen range that holds some spices is a neighborhood garage sale find that I painted and ‘artsied-up’.

I consider plantings by mailboxes fair game for flower cuttings, and I delight when finding these free, almost magical, ways to grow new plants. Recently, I have broken off sprigs of rosemary and wandering jew, and they are now in my garden window in vases of water growing new roots. I am not sure why people would have these kinds of plants growing beside their mailboxes, but it is not for me to ask. I am just glad they do.

I must admit that one time I was scared by some dogs that had gotten loose. Nothing happened, but I swore that in the future I would always carry my umbrella for protection. I never remembered to do that and luckily have never seen roaming dogs again. Lots of times I hear barking, but it always comes from behind a sturdy fence.

I notice some people listening to music, or maybe an audio book, while walking, but in my opinion that defeats the whole purpose of being outside. I walk to be entertained by nature and want all my senses honed in on Mother Earth. Or maybe I am one of those people who have trouble doing two things at once. Regardless, when I am outside, I want to see all there is to see, smell all the different smells, hear all there is to hear, and use all my senses to get the most from that thirty minutes of freedom. Here’s hoping you have enjoyed a walk recently, and if you have anything to share about it, let me know.

Dinner with Connie

On June 10^th, 2018, I received a text message from one of my granddaughters asking if I could meet her for dinner the next evening at a local restaurant. Connie Elizabeth, named after me and a special friend of her mother’s, mentioned nothing else in her message, but I did not think it was anything out of the ordinary. Her husband is a Jacksonville fire fighter and remains overnight at his fire station, sometimes several nights in a row. So I assumed this was one of those nights, and Connie thought it was a good time to get together, just us girls.

Connie and Clark were married in 2013 and in 2014 they bought a home a few miles east of High Springs, about twenty miles from where I live near Gainesville. Their house is on a beautiful historic road named Old Bellamy Road, which was part of a lengthy highway built across Florida in the 1820s linking Pensacola and St. Augustine, a road suitable for horse-drawn carriages. This part, named after the contractor, John Bellamy, follows Native American and Spanish Missionary trails, and today it is a beautiful drive, winding, hilly, and under lovely overhanging oaks filled with Spanish moss. Old falling-down farm buildings and sheds dot the landscape and call out for exploration. Modern residences are limited and usually on substantial acreage to further enhance the feeling of time travel as one passes through secluded ancient forests.

Connie’s mom was a nurse so it was natural that she leaned toward some sort of medical career. That came to fruition shortly before her marriage, and she continues to love her position as a radiation therapist. She’s a caring person, level-headed, a planner, and a good organizer. Recently, she was promoted to a supervisory position.

After Clark and Connie were married, naturally the families hoped for a baby sometime in the near future. Instead, for their first Christmas together in their new home, they adopted a puppy, a solid black Lab whom they named Bowden after the former Seminole Coach Bobby Bowden. Yes, they are Seminole fans in the midst of Gator Country. Bowden has grown into a beautiful silky black animal, well-behaved and friendly. Still waiting for babies, the following Christmas brought another addition to the family. Yes, another puppy, a friend for Bowden, a Dalmatian whom they named Renegade. I think there may be a pattern here. Renegade is now almost full-grown and as one would expect from their names, they get along well with each other and are almost never separated.

After Renegade, the families expected there might be another puppy the next Christmas, but Connie and Clark had decided they were a two-puppy family and there were no more. For the next couple of years at family gatherings someone would throw out the subtle hint of a bun in the oven, but Connie or Clark would give a slight shrug of their shoulders and change the subject. Maybe being a great grandmother was not in the cards for me.

So as I made my way to the restaurant the next evening, baby news was not on my mind. Connie was a little late since she was coming from work, and I filled my time making up stories about other patrons, a habit of mine. Very few people go to restaurants alone, I noticed, and when there is a single person, the tone of the hostess seemed to me a little biased, as though a single person was not worth as much consideration as a couple or a crowd. My husband passed away in 2012, and I have been the recipient of this particular attitude once or twice although it may just be my imagination.

Connie arrived, apologized for being late, we hugged, chatted awhile to catch up, and scanned the menu. After the waiter took our order, Connie began searching through her purse while animatedly talking about her day at work.

Then she said, “And look at what I got at my doctor’s appointment today.”

She handed over a couple of small sheets of what at first looked like credit card receipts, that kind of paper. Then I realized I was looking at a baby on an ultrasound report! I looked up at Connie and she was glowing. I could almost see the light radiating from her. Tears of happiness filled my eyes and we hugged again and just held hands. Although there was no need, she told me how happy and excited she and Clark are. The baby is due on January 3^rd, 2019, maybe a New Year’s baby.

Although good stories should have an ending, this one does not. Connie is doing well, sporting a pretty good-sized baby bump at the time of this writing. A new life has revitalized my life, and now I look forward to the future with my great grandchild, happy for however long I am allowed to be a part of it.