Returning to Earth
Spring time means renewal, the time when snow melts down into the earth and then passes up into the clouds in which the rain falls down a gentle pitter patter, completing the water cycle. It’s nothing too special; the natural scientific process of evaporation, liquidation, and condensation.
I’m a homebody, meaning that I do most of my important work at home. Raising a kid- while my wife is out in Madison doing her nine to five- means I get up at seven in the morning to make sure the coffee’s been brewed and our daughter’s lunch has been made and packed. After all that is done and they’re off, it’s my responsibility to take our little black Labrador outside. The route we usually walk is an easy four blocks south and then I let the dog romp around at a dog friendly park with some of the regulars. Momo is still an energetic fella; it’s hard to imagine he’s three years old. But he still has the energy of a puppy, bouncing around like a wound-up toy. At least he knows a few tricks that 200 bucks and several tries at Obedience school could buy, including the notion that the leash means we get to go outside.
It’s a good day to go out too. As we’re heading out the door, the clouds overhead blow a gentle breeze and a smell of wet dirt hits my nose from last night’s rainstorm. Momo loves it. He’s sniffing the ground and pressing his nostrils into the brown stuff. I pull him out every now and then in case he starts to eat grass, but the dog is persistent. Our route starts from Home, a two-story house with a small front yard and a porch, leading out to the street. We turn to the right and start down the path. On occasion, we stop to make sure any business that Momo had was taken care of in plastic. We pass by other houses on side streets, but we stop at a crosswalk. I make sure that no cars were driving on; how could there be, it’s a Monday and everyone is at work.
We pass by a small area surrounded by a few folks; I recognize them as part of the Randall Park Neighborhood. I’ve heard that they were working on asking the city to create a small park around here- a destitute lot that no one had used for a long time. I say hi to at least two out of the five of them; the rest I just nodded in greeting. Momo tried to sniff at some legs. We talked for a bit and I asked them what they were doing looking at this lot.
They said that the lot had been left alone for a while and because nothing was going on with it, they were hoping to make it into a new space for the kids and old folks to come down to and enjoy. The City could help fix it up with some new lighting, a few plants when the ground thaws after the April snowstorm- a paradoxical midwestern regular- and it could provide the neighborhood something that everyone can gather around, instead of letting it sit there.
I nod and tell them they got my vote on it; they all laugh and bade me goodbye as Momo started to get a little restless. He wanted to walk, so we went. We press on.
As Momo and I got closer to the Dog Park, I could hear the dogs barking and yipping at each other in excitement as we finally make it to the park. His ears perk and I could hear a low whine of excitement escapes his throat. After letting myself in to the enclosed space, I let Momo go and meet with the other dogs. His yips and barks match the others as they play. I stand in my space, watching the dog run around and having fun. My thoughts turn to the park that could be made in the lot just around Randall Park. You know, it would be fun to have that; I could bring the family around, Grandpa could play Boche, my wife could get our daughter out of the house for a little bit… but, that waits until Summer.
