After my arrival at the B. and D.'s I took the old dog walk around the neighborhood. I saw this bird. I do not think it is a crow.
I remember when the I. boys' dad built this tree-house for them. It was pretty cool...now I think it's probably a death trap. Also, the creek was missing. B. tried to assure me that this is how it was at this time of year, but I don't really buy it.
This is a spot that used to have a house. A beekeeper's house. My godmother, C. and her husband M. lived there when I was a kid. Now no trace remains. Well, except the land and the sign, I guess.
We would walk through the woods to go to the pool in the summer and to the sledding hill in the winter. I would like to stand on this stump, which seemed much higher when I was much shorter, and sing a song about taking off my underpants. Perhaps the second verse of a trick or treat chant? I would jump off at the end. I'm glad the stump is still there.
See that slight rise in the round on the upper left part of this photograph? There used to be a school there. And just down the hill, in front of the ivy-covered fence, there were great, if outdated and probably strangulation hazards, playground equipment. Gone, too.
Sledding hill still exists.
As does this woodpecker bird.
I don't really care for change. Especially to things well cemented in my brain as fact and/or memory. I guess a memory doesn't change just because the thing it's keeping in your brain disappears. It was a good day for a walk, but I was wearing the wrong socks with my boots, which led to a blister ... not good timing for the rally stupidity that would follow the next day.
I remember when the I. boys' dad built this tree-house for them. It was pretty cool...now I think it's probably a death trap. Also, the creek was missing. B. tried to assure me that this is how it was at this time of year, but I don't really buy it.
This is a spot that used to have a house. A beekeeper's house. My godmother, C. and her husband M. lived there when I was a kid. Now no trace remains. Well, except the land and the sign, I guess.
We would walk through the woods to go to the pool in the summer and to the sledding hill in the winter. I would like to stand on this stump, which seemed much higher when I was much shorter, and sing a song about taking off my underpants. Perhaps the second verse of a trick or treat chant? I would jump off at the end. I'm glad the stump is still there.
See that slight rise in the round on the upper left part of this photograph? There used to be a school there. And just down the hill, in front of the ivy-covered fence, there were great, if outdated and probably strangulation hazards, playground equipment. Gone, too.
Sledding hill still exists.
As does this woodpecker bird.
I don't really care for change. Especially to things well cemented in my brain as fact and/or memory. I guess a memory doesn't change just because the thing it's keeping in your brain disappears. It was a good day for a walk, but I was wearing the wrong socks with my boots, which led to a blister ... not good timing for the rally stupidity that would follow the next day.
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