The coming of daylight
this morning woke me just before 5 oclock. I was coming
off a very late night, and after rising I stood by the bedroom
window to inhale the fresh air of spring, in hopes of chasing
the cobwebs out of my head. Instead I was surprised by the fragrance
of Pepe-La-Pew, as I call himour neighborhood skunk.
It had been a while
since his acrid odor had permeated the air around my home. As
long as Pepe has been around, you would think that the neighborhood
cats and dogs would have learned to leave him alone. But nosome
sorry animal had apparently challenged Pepe's authority.
When I set out on
my walk a short time later, I deduced that the city park in
front of my house was where Pepe had asserted himself. His recent
presence was most notable there. To get out of the pungent air,
I hurried on my way.
After leaving the
immediate neighborhood, I considered walking leisurely, to give
Pepe's fragrance time to dissipate before my return. But I finally
decided not to slow down, because I had been slacking too much
lately, due to my neighbor and usual walking partner not joining
me to set a brisk pace.
With each step the
air improved, and that made me happyalthough Pepes
rancid air had certainly cleared the cobwebs. All in all, the
day was starting well.
For various reasons
I had been in kind of a funk lately. And even though I took
my walk as usual last week, I just hadn't felt like writing
about it. Not being a trained writer, after starting this column
about my Tuesday Walks several months ago I have gained a great
deal of respect for real writers who must deliver articles on
a timely basis, every time.
Last week, which
was a real DOG WEEK, I just couldn't find my way to writing
anything! It was as though my mind were paralyzed. I interpret
DOG WEEK the same as one of my favorite poets, Don Blanding.
One of his poems is Vagabonds House (which
I might read to you if you catch me in the appropriate mood
at my own house). It is a description of his dream house and
everything in it. He wrote: "There are times when only
a dog will do for a friendwhen you're beaten, sick and
blue, and the world's all wrongfor he won't care if you
break and cry, or grouch and swear, for he'll let you know as
he licks your hands that he's downright sorry . . . and understands.
Such funks come on
me when I think of all the things I would like to accomplish,
yet can't find the time to do them. But this funk passed too,
just about the time I was out of Pepe-La-Pew's range. After
that, the smell of spring was in the air, and the lack of cars
early in the morning added no carbon monoxide.
It's funny how smell
can affect your frame of mind. But even if I had a bit of the
funk in me, the crisp morning air would have soon made my worries
go away. Maybe instead of having so much of the smell
of the office around me, I thought, I should put
my computer on the patio table when I find myself getting downfor
whatever reasonand take in the fragrance of the flowers
in my yard. I decided to give this idea more thought.
On the return leg
of my walk, I stopped at the French Pastry Shop. I had not done
that in a couple of weeks. I figured that a whiff of a fresh
peach pastry would do me good. It did.
Have a great day.