Enjoying the colors

Snapshot. I switched up my neighborhood walking route recently, with multiple motivations as we move through spring. I’m adding distance so I’m ready for our annual trip to the Cape, where my dear wife Karen love to walk to and from so many places. Different routes stir my brain in alternate directions. And I’m always…

Or maybe they just weather

Like a twirled cone? Strides up the neighborhood green triangle, I happen upon a pole that’s dark brown on the bottom and very lighter toward the top. So maybe all my conjecture back a ways was was wasted? Really, could those very brown poles have started their lives all light?

Which goes where?

Consistency matters? It sure looks as if some planner somewhere had to decide which side of our neighborhood green space got the light-colored poles and which side got the dark-colored poles. And, I ponder during my retirement walk stroll, do they hold wires or wear differently?

Split decision

Making room. It sure does seem, I think during my retirement month stroll, that this obviously been-there, done-that tree has found its own place for the wires that run through it.

Fallow time

Resting mode. From my neighborhood walks in spring, summer and even fall, I have no doubt that this suburban front yard garden can return with some oomph when the months march past with me.

Quite an imposing marker

On guard. So not everybody in the neighborhood follows the instructions to put these new big garbage and recycling containers out the night before collection and wheel them back in after they’re emptied, I notice on my retirement month stroll.

Cold as ice

Careful on the corners … Walking the neighborhood blocks during my retirement month can lead to some slippery discoveries even when the lawns are bare. When the temperatures fall below freezing, puddles, they do go icy.

Can’t mistake a January sky

Toward the lake from the next block over. As I walk just because I want to walk during my retirement month, I decide that there’s something about a January sky that is unmistakeable. Perhaps the chill nipping at my cheeks and fingers has something to do with my mind set?