Saturday, April 14, 2012

Day of Walking

After the usual two hours of chores this morning, I knew I was going to Corvallis. There was a free yard debris pickup at the disposal site. I still have a bunch of limbs and branches that fell during the snow and windstorms. I gathered those up and crammed them into the back of my car.

I fed Kiwi. She's still in the garage cage. I suppose I'll move her to the bathroom this evening now that River is gone. I don't want to. If she's loud, she'll keep me awake.

I fed the garage room crew of cats. These are the cats who rarely come into the house even though they can if they want to via the overhead cat run through the garage.

The run is too narrow. Guarding of the run by cats with dominance and anger issues goes on. One cat with issues can keep other cats from going out and still others from coming into the house from the garage cat room and cat yard. I need a solution to that.

Miss Daisy, deaf to the low threatening growls of the cats with issues who want to engage her, blind to their acidity too, (she was born an optimist), weaves her way through them, like a soldier running a field unaware those little dips hide land minds. But many others who want to go out, are too afraid to challenge the anger Moguls who station themselves bristling at the top of the little stairs leading up from the kitchen cat door to the skyline garage run.

Those who rarely come in, include Button and Tweetie, sisters from Columbus Greens trailer park. Occasionally I find Button inside. They include Hairy, the big fat very hairy old former feral who was to meet his end at Heartland, until they saw his ear tip and called to ask if I would take him. He likes his vittles a lot. He doesn't move around much and has never, to my knowledge, run the gauntlet to come inside the house. It'd be an idiot cat to challenge Hairy. He's twice the size easily of any cat here.

The last three garage and cat yard dwellers are Angel, Smolder and Nemo. Smolder, Sage's son, is very friendly, but he likes hanging out with Sam, if Sam is out in the cat yard, and he loves Nemo too. Angel, an extremely long hair black tux girl, was dumped at the Scravel Hill cemetery with her mom and sister. Angel does come in every night, but waits until things quiet down in here. Nemo used to be so friendly and tame, but after his two month long adoption to the Salem family, culminating in them demanding I come get him, his outgoing friendly nature had vanished. He has since refused to come inside and runs from every human. I don't know what went on up there. He was such a love before and least he's safe again here.

So I took care of Kiwi in the garage and cleaned the garage cat room and yard. But after that was done, I knew where I was going after I dropped off the yard debris at the recycle center in Corvallis. I was going out to Bald Hill.

I used to hike that park three or four times a week. I lived in a shack over in Corvallis that wasn't far from Bald Hill park. I love that park. I miss it.

I really don't get over to Corvallis very often anymore. If I do get over there and it's not pouring down rain, I try to go walking at Bald Hill park. Today I did just that, with sun out for a change and Bald Hill's notorious poison oak in remission from spraying I think, I walked up that hill to the very top. I had to stop about three times. I'm out of shape. I plopped down on the grass at the top. A young couple had the bench. They were bantering back and forth like a girl and guy might do, barely skirting their flirtatiousness, apparent to anyone within earshot.

Another young man sprawled on a blanket, feet out, legs bare, strumming a guitar. A brownish tan bible lay next to the edge of his blanket, forgotten to the day and his lazy guitar.

A single woman appeared then left the trail and vanished in the trees. She was soon back. Bathroom break over. She sat with her back to the rest of us, facing west and Marys Peak, visible off in the distance through an opaque haze hanging low, snow bedazzling its crown.

Down I went then, faster than I came up. I took the horse trail down, the wide and muddy horse trail. I got in my car then and I came home, feeling powerful for having done something like climb Bald Hill, something I used to do like habit, like taking a shower, when I lived over there.

I'm alone constantly. Sometimes the loneliness is heavy on my being like walking through knee deep mud. Sometimes I can kick it off or bear the weight and go on my way despite. Today I went my way.

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