I nearly posted a link to a Garmin map that tracks the walk I took tonight. It took quite a bit of time to figure out a way to post it, then I thought…do I really want to post a map showing where I walk? Hell, why not!
Actually, I have decided against it. A moment ago I deleted the post. And now I feel grumpy. Tired. Disappointed. All too familiar.
This was a typical walk-along-the-lake-and-into-the-woods kind of post. I have a few dozen posted here already, I am sure. And my photos were not quite as good as others. I am afraid my camera phone is growing tired. Focus is not one of its strong suits any longer and light exposure is all fuddled up.
It was a nice walk, though. I did see a doe and two fawns and I wrote about that. Sounds dull, I’m sure, but I did a good job. (You see I discovered this gap in the fence where the deer crouch down and scoot under the chain link…I watched two go through while the third seemed a bit confused and lost…he eventually found his way to the other side. Happy reunion. Drama worthy of a book about a white whale, of which I have read very little today.)
I took pictures of mushrooms and roses. I commented on the compost at the rose garden. (It smells like a mix of tobacco and plums, not an unpleasant scent at all.) I took pictures of artists painting in the park.
And I complained about the heat. I complained about the heat a lot and wondered if whiskey might make it better. Oh, my writing about this was especially good! I can’t recall what I wrote, but I can tell you what inspires me.
When I think of awful heat and smothering humidity, I think of old southern men, Depression era, of course; old southern men sweating in seersucker suits, poorly tied ties, and Panama hats. And I think of whiskey.
Perhaps it is unfair to whiskey — or maybe the old men — but sticky heat is old man whiskey weather in my mind and I think it might be time to see how they mix, if they do. Of course Minneapolis is a city where it is tough to have a good time. You can’t stroll the parks with a flask of whiskey, for example, but you can always carry some in your stomach. So I have decided that one of these hot steamy nights I’ll have a shot or two and go for a walk.
I might take a chance and put a small flask in my pocket, too. What harm can a guy do taking a nip in the bird sanctuary? Maybe the shadows will speak to me differently if I do.
That will have to be another day. It is quite late now. I do feel a bit better having taken a few minutes to write something. It is a recovery of sorts, a recovery from a lost post. It was the map that had troubled me in that post. Nothing more. I had my story all laid out along the Garmin track. I shouldn’t have been so quick to trash it. I didn’t feel right putting my map on the table, however.
Plus there is something about the map that is especially interesting to me in a strange, taunting sort of way. I uploaded the map of tonight’s walk and at the end my route, the track jumps down the block and ends in a place which is not mine. When I saw where it landed, I smiled and felt a little sad at the same time. True to Freud, this strange glitch truly touches the uncanny. (You’ll have to trust me.)
It has been a very still, quiet week. Maybe the heat has something to do with it. Nothing seems to stir, but everything is hot to the touch.
- Unusual whale sightings flagged up off Scotland (scotsman.com)
- South Korea planning to start scientific whaling (abc.net.au)
- A Week at the Lake (alittletourinyellow.wordpress.com)
- Family Walk (ssimplyme.com)
- The strength we require (randomthoughtsfrommidlife.wordpress.com)