mooing cows and feeble fences

Never have I heard so many birds screaming at once. And never was I told the population of birds amongst neighborhoods was approximately nine million.

  I pretend to be some cool photographer or something as I walk down the sidewalk in my jean shorts and t-shirt. Maybe that's what cool photographers wear. I don't know. 

Though I don't look very cool, constantly shielding my camera and avoiding any water droplet in the area. I was also never told that every sprinkler in the US turns on at 6am.

I pass no one until I notice a woman trimming her bush. Such an odd time to be trimming a bush. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe it's not so odd for people who regularly wake at obscene hours of the day.

I continue on to the park, my giddiness at that glorious sunrise ascending with each step. That's gonna be my shot in a matter of minutes, I tell myself. On and on down the path, seeing only old ladies in slightly awkward hats and toned people running around. I cross over to the grass and head up the hill.

 My shoes soak through from the sogginess of the grass, but it doesn't matter. I can live with wet feet. I'm on the top of the hill now, breathing in the fresh air, looking all around me, and having to wait a minute to take a shot. It's so beautiful and routine and lovely. It's so amazing and awe-inspiring.


 Four shots, then I'm back down the hill, thankful to be back on cement and not standing in an inch of water.

Every step ends in laughter for me. I can't help it, it's just so amazing to be able to walk and breath and feel and photograph. So I laugh out loud. And I probably look like a psychological weirdo to the old lady who just passed me. It doesn't matter though, because today I'm not worried about what other people think of me. Even those old ladies in slightly awkward hats that you know everyone tries to look cool around.

A few trips around each pond, sneaking behind the ducks and snapping a photo before it thinks it's dying, and I'm back on the trail, headed for the loveliest neighborhood. It's full of flowers, and old houses, and cows, and awesome mailboxes. Someday I'm gonna live there.

(awesome mailbox)

"Morning," nods an old man passing by. I reply with a "good morning to you, fine sir" giggle, skip.

Sunflowers and feeble picket fences and cows that whip their tails. One cow even seemed to enjoy getting his picture taken. And he mooed at me about seven times within 30 seconds. I liked that cow. Even though he looked like he was going to hurt me. I named him George.

My camera told me I only had 10 shots left, so I decided I probably shoudn't finish them off with pictures of cool mailboxes. Because every mailbox I passed was cool. And I passed a lot of mailboxes.

And now I return home, satisfied and a bit achy and wondering what time it is. Finally reaching the door of my home, I kick my tennis shoes off and examine the blisters I got from walking an hour in wet shoes. Next I pull out my memory card and scan through some of my photos. And lastly, I toast a piece of toast, for toast solves all problems.

xo,
abby