Sarah's CircleFriends are blessings that sustain our journeys. |
I walk in the neighborhood most every morning except Sunday. Most days I walk with our dog Bella, and a couple of days a week I walk by myself on wooded park trails. When Bella walks with me, I let her choose the route, which means we could be headed anywhere her nose leads us. This morning, she pulled me up the cement trail behind our house and veered out onto some neighborhood streets for a large loop around several blocks before heading back toward the mulch trail that adjoins the large regional park a short distance from our house. Most of our neighbors are Indian, and in the mornings I meet several groups of two or three women walking together. I notice this morning that most are wearing masks, but I am not, as our state mask mandate does not apply when exercising. I also have noticed that most of these women wear leggings, some capri-length and some ankle-length. A few wear simple saris over their capris, but most wear T-shirts. This morning I wonder how long these women have been in the U.S. and how many other American customs they now observe. They smile and wave or say "Good morning," when I meet them, but they usually wait for me to greet them first--I wonder why. When I meet an older Indian couple, as I often do, the woman always wears traditional clothing, walks behind the man, and neither looks my direction. If I say hello, they usually ignore me. This morning, Bella and I meet an Indian man with a dog--a Shih Tzu, I think--named Toby. Bella is excited to greet Toby, and his owner stops to chat a moment and let them sniff each other. Very few Indian families have dogs, but I'm beginning to see more and more of them. I wonder about this also. Our next-door neighbors just got a puppy for their 6-year-old daughter Isabel, and they don't seem to know what to do with it. Keeping pets is an American custom that the parents adopt when their children beg for them, I think. Most of their children were born in the U.S., so they will be American. I often wonder about the tensions this will lead to. Just as Bella and I approach the mulch trail on our way back home, I notice a young deer standing near the edge of a wooded Karst area, one of many that dot our neighborhood. Karst areas feature sinkholes basically, and I recall the sinkhole not far from where the deer stands in which Tim found a sleeping skunk last fall. (Hint: Let sleeping skunks lie!). The deer freezes and watches us for a moment; Bella doesn't see him at first. I stop as well and we stare at each other until he decides I'm not a threat and begins to eat again. Bella notices the movement and sits down on the grass to watch. He soon moves into the trees and Bella pulls at her leash and whines a little--I'm not sure what she thinks, but she loves seeing deer. I do too! A few feet further, I see there are two more deer among the trees. Bella is busy sniffing the trail and the air and doesn't see them. They watch as we walk by, without calling more attention to themselves. Bella soon forgets and we continue on our way. After more than a year now in our new home, these streets, the trails, and the nearby park are almost as familiar for our twice-daily walks as the interior features of our home. Yet every day there is something or someone new to see, and always new thoughts to accompany them. --Janice
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January 2022
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