October Walk, Part 2

Ready to continue our walk? We're back on Larch Street now, headed south. As we pass this paddock, you can look back across the field, at the end of the storage buildings, just to the left of the tree behind the further horse. Way back there is the apartment where Husband lived during the year we were dating long-distance. Good memories!
This fellow seems to be sprouting long hair in preparation for a cold winter.
We're about to pass the legendary water tanks. Well, they're not really legendary, but there's a story here. Our little town tends to quarrel with Big Town next door, generally over water rights and who's going to get the big businesses (We got Walmart and Home Depot; they have lots of other stuff). Eventually the leaders of our town decided we needed big water tanks to secure the water supply for ourselves, so they built these gargantuan tanks. And then they painted them off-white.

All the neighbors pitched a fit. If they had to have water tanks in their backyard, they said, they didn't need tanks that created a glare for them. So after all that painting and effort, the town leaders decided on this light, non-intrusive green ... and took on the task of repainting. Frankly, I think they're much better now.
Now we're walking along Larch toward the hill to the "Old New Jerusalem." On our right is the Alzheimer's home where Stepson works while he's getting his 2-year nursing degree.
At the top of the hill--which takes more effort to surmount than the picture above would lead you to believe--I'm rewarded by the glorious sight of sunshine through autumn leaves. This tree is right in front of the home of a psychology professor at the community college. She did her dissertation on the forgiveness project in South Africa, and has amazing stories to tell, stories that make you tear up.

The four-kilometer mark, by the way, just just across the street from here.
We walk down into the next little valley and pass a housing development on the left. When I was in college, this was a huge wheat field. I went out there snowmobiling with my friend Ken one cold winter night. We hit a bump, I flew high and landed in the snow, laughing. It was such an adventure for a kid who grew up on tropical islands!
I don't know what these trees are called, but I love seeing red berries any time!
As we pass by the housing development, I notice that the evergreen hedge is changing color. Strange. I don't think this is an autumn thing; I think they're really dying. I wonder why? The colors are pretty, though.
On the right, across from the multicolored hedge, we spot some cute kids enjoying their trampoline in the afternoon sunlight. Oh, what I would have given to have a trampoline like this when I was a kid! Shouts and giggles float out from inside the netting.
I politely request to take a few pictures, and Big Sister warily agrees. This little guy obliges by jumping really high for me. He's such a cutie! I show the picture on the back of my camera to the curious kids before walking on.
Just past the trampoline house is Lions' Park on the left. The pond is stocked with fish for kids who want to bring their fishing poles over, and Garrison Creek provides hours of fun for children and ducks playing in the park.
Nearby is a kinetic sculpture recently installed in the park. The design is a cross between Rube Goldberg and a "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" atmosphere. I rather like it. We stop and watch the whimsical wind vanes rotate slowly in the breeze.
And right behind us, a bunch of university students have found time to come out of their study dens for a game of frisbee football. My guess is, their studies will go better for their having gotten some fresh air and exercise.
Reaching the top of the "New New Jerusalem" hill by the Village Church again, we're nearly home. But first, we have to take in that lovely green-gold light shining through the weeping birch leaves. There's something so enchanting about autumn sunlight.
I typically walk this route in the mornings, not in the afternoon. And there's a black-clad teenager who sits with his back against the telephone pole, waiting for the school bus, his legs stretched out across the narrow sidewalk. I have debated whether to step over his legs, or around them. So far, I have stepped just past his feet, making my silent point that I'm not going to give him wide berth. Are we playing chicken? Is he a gang member? I don't know. But I'm sure he knows he's being disrespectful.
Crossing the intersection, we walk down Larch past all the rosebushes where Husband and I stop to drink in long sniffs during the summer. The roses are rather withered now, yet still with some color to them. The hills in the distance are in Oregon.
As we pass the yard of the trumpet-playing lady's dad, I stop and point out my favorite flowers (other than the roses, that is) to you. I don't know what these are, but the blossoms of this ground cover give off the most delightful, heady smell in the summer. Do you recognize it, perchance? I'd like to plant some next summer.
We round the corner back onto our street. Today the front window has been pulled out of the house undergoing remodeling, and there are four or five guys working in the hole there. I wonder if they'll have the new windows installed by dark? It's going to be a cold night again.
Hurrah! We're back at our front door, five kilometers done. For those of you who need the translation, it's 3.1 miles. And a wonderful walk it was, in this brisk air. I think it's time to look for my other wreath which has an autumn theme to it. The fake daisies can probably go into the basement until next summer.
Walking in the front door, I look down the entryway at our breakfast nook. That green chair is the one where I sit with my laptop to do my blogging. So now you can picture it.
But before I download the pictures, I stop in the entryway to unshoe myself, and drop off my visor, sunglasses and iPod. (The purple gloves are waiting until it gets quite a bit colder.)

Thanks for coming along!