Category Archives: walking

Walking in the Dark

When I was younger I used to love it when it got dark early in the winter. I thought it was exciting. I guess because night time was grown up time. Little kids went to bed early, while Mom and Dad stayed up late. When it got dark early, it was almost like staying up later. Now that I’m a grown up myself (with a mortgage and everything), I try to maintain some of the thrills I had when I was younger, with greater or lesser success.

This by way of introduction to another pedestrian post.

I’m usually home by four, so I could take my dog Tabby for a walk before sundown. In fact, I could enjoy one of my favorite times of day: dusk. I have not had my act together to that extent this week. We’ve been walking after dark.

The great thing about walking after dark in December is that you get to see everybody’s Christmas lights. A lot of people in Herkimer decorate. Myers Park has a tree and lights on the pavilion. And if you stroll downtown there are decorations on the lamp posts. All kinds of Christmas spirit!

I’ve been enjoying my after dark excursions with Tabby. Maybe we’ll drive to the surrounding villages and check our their decorations, too.

I know this is supposed to be Lame Post Friday, and although some may call this post lame, I don’t believe it reaches the sublime levels of silliness I strive for on Friday. Well, folks, I’m disappointed too. Unfortunately, I work tomorrow, thus robbing Friday of some of its joy, and I have a sinus headache, which is taking its toll. Try me again tomorrow.

Saturday Morning Walk

Other Saturdays I have gone running in the morning and then blogged about my run. Today I walked to the bank with Tabby, so my post will be about that.

I had a couple of checks I wanted to deposit in my Mad Money account at First Source Federal Credit Union here in Herkimer. I like that bank, because they are dog friendly. They don’t mind if Tabby comes in with me; in fact, they usually give her a treat. I thought they opened at eight, so we set out accordingly. I figured if I was wrong and they didn’t open till nine, I could get two walks in.

It was cold! Our thermometer said thirty-one degrees, and I believed it. The grass was stiff with last night’s heavy frost. I slipped on a little ice in the driveway and told myself I’d better watch it. I quickly put on the headband I had put in my pocket in case I needed it. I was wearing a jacket large enough to pull the sleeves down over my hands. Tabby did not seem to mind the temperature, but then she has a built in fur coat. I kept telling myself, wait till February. Then when it gets to be thirty-one degrees, we’ll be rejoicing in the warm weather. Perspective is a wonderful thing.

We saw a young person wearing pajama bottoms walking a large dog on the other side of the street. I could not tell if it was a young man or a young woman, because he or she was bundled up in a coat and hat, and the pajama bottoms were gender neutral. I mentally deplored again the fashion of wearing pajamas in public. Then again, maybe the person had just rolled out of bed and did not want to make their dog wait for its morning business meeting. Anyways, who am I to judge other people’s clothing? Especially when you consider some of my crazy old lady outfits. Tabby and the other dog regarded each other suspiciously but did not bark. Good dogs.

Tabby did her business, and as we continued toward the bank I kept an eye out for a trash can. You would think some of these businesses would have one by the door. At last I found one. I did not want to carry Tabby’s poop into the bank. I carried it into the post office once, set it down to transact my business and forgot it. I went back to get it and apologized, but how embarrassing. And pretty gross for other people.

After I made my deposit and Tabby got her treat, we went home by a different route. We saw a pug I know across the street but did not get near enough to pet him. He looked at us rather interestedly but kept walking, pausing of course to sniff or poop. Closer to home I got to pet two sweet shih tzu looking dogs (I’m never sure about breeds; I ought to get a book). Tabby touched noses with them but was more interested in heading home.

I have at least one more walk in mind for later today, as well as a couple other Mohawk Valley adventures. This morning’s stroll was a pleasant way to start my day.

Walk, Don’t Run

The headline is from a sign at work. They’re all about safety there.

I ran three days in a row, that is, three out of my four days off. Then I went back to work for ten hours (sweet overtime). I was tired. Of course, every time I don’t run just because I’m tired, I regret it the next day. It rains, or my back hurts, or something else comes up, and then I’m two days without running. That said, I just could not get myself into sports bras and out the door.

I had coffee instead. Then turned on the computer intending to make my blog post. Then started thinking about my poor dog, who had been so happy to see me come home and who I was ignoring to be on the silly computer. The least I could do was take that pooch for a walk.

It was a lovely afternoon for a walk. Gloomy but not raining. I love gloomy days. I admired the trees’ bare branches against the grey sky. I always think deciduous trees are the real artists of nature. Every season they offer something different to admire.

I let Tabby pull me where she wanted to go. Down German Street towards Main. There are some cool older buildings on Main Street before you get into the downtown area. For example, the former Masonic Temple that now houses a tanning business. And of course, the Historic Four Corners. I noticed a wreath hung over the front door of the 1834 Jail and a Christmas Tree in the window. Very nice. Tabby pulled me through the little park near Basloe Library, and I was reminded about their book sale. Maybe I could check that out for a blog post later in the week.

I realized we were headed home after that. Tabby knows the neighborhood and had definite ideas about how long she wants to walk. My only concern was to keep her from jaywalking as we got closer to our street.

As we walked down our street, I saw a man walk, stop, then walk some more. It was almost dark by now, so it took me a minute to see the small animal frisking behind him. We caught up to them as we got to our house. The small animal was a tiny chihuahua. When she saw Tabby, she stopped and waited curiously. The dogs sniffed each other, but when I went to pet the chihuahua, Tabby barked and the other dog ran away. Her person picked her up and I petted her.

I said how cute she was and asked how old, and if it was a she or a he. The man said he thought she was about two. He had rescued her in California, where apparently she had just been dropped off in traffic.

“Sometimes they breed them and all they want is the puppies,” he said. Isn’t that just awful? She was a very sweet dog and so little. The man told me he had brought her back to New York thinking to give her to his grandkids, but they could not have a dog in their apartment.

“What, this cute little dog couldn’t hurt any apartment! Well, she’s lucky she has you,” I said.

“Oh, I just love her,” he replied.

We wished each other good night, and Tabby and I went inside. I hope we see that cute little dog again. I had missed my run, but the walk was nice.

Back on My Feet Again

I do tend to go on about things (like for example the DARE 5K). I think almost every post since last Thursday I have mentioned my bad cold. Due to the cold, I have not been running or walking in a number of days (that’s a silly expression: “a number of days.” After all, one is a number.) (Some say the loneliest number) (But I digress). I was determined to take my schnoodle Tabby for a walk on Tuesday.

We set out down German Street in the direction of Caroline. I thought we might pass a couple of Mohawk Valley landmarks I could put in the blog. First we walked by Trinity Lutheran Church. They had a craft fair and soup luncheon last Saturday, which I missed as I was in the throes of the Overtime Blues.

I saw a cute little poodle I’ve tried to pet on occasion. She was a block and more ahead of us, walking with her lady, and we did not catch up. Just as well, she’s a nervous poodle. I also saw a pug I think I know, peeping out of the front door of his house. If it was the pug I think it was, he’s hard to pet too, but not because he’s scared of me. He’s just too wiggly.

Tabby and I boldly crossed Caroline, which I don’t always attempt at that time of day. It was no problem, though, and we walked on. We passed the Bellinger Rose Bed and Breakfast. I’ve never set foot in the place much less stayed there, so I can’t give it a real plug. However, it’s a beautiful building to walk by. Maybe one day they’ll do a Historical Society Fundraiser there, as the Balloon Farm Bed and Breakfast in Frankfort did once (alas, in my pre-blog days).

I had thought to walk down by the high school. For one thing, they have a handily located trash can, and Tabby had done her business (incidentally, I don’t know what kind of dog food and treats, Steven has been buying lately, but Tabby’s poops were tri-colored. It was amazing). Unfortunately, some parent meeting was going on. Lots of traffic, and I did not like to intrude. I did scan their electronic sign as I passed for upcoming events. We went to a fun play there once (again, during pre-blog days. Sorry, Herkimer Footlighters).

Tabby was getting a little tired of walking by now and started pulling me toward home. We headed in that direction, making good time except for just a couple pauses while Tabby explored a promising smell. She may get tired of walking, but she almost never gets tired of sniffing.

I always like walking in Herkimer, and I like writing blog posts about my walks. I always try to find something new and different to mention to my readers. I’m almost never disappointed. I hope my readers like it too.

Another Pedestrian Post

Tuesday Tabby and I walked to the post office with post cards. I did not allow myself to be distracted by television. I did not neglect to put my bra back on. So right away, I was doing better than the last walk to the post office (or worse, when you consider the bra thing was pretty comical to blog about). Still, the walk was not without its points of interest.

I rather blatantly wore a crazy old lady outfit. I kept on the BDU pants and bright orange shirt I had worn to work (I think they look nice together). I added a sweatshirt and changed my steel toed work shoes for comfy running shoes (purchased at The Sneaker Store in New Hartford, NY). I let Tabby jump and bark impatiently while I looked for my crazy old lady hat.

We used to have a neighbor who loved that hat. If she saw me and I did not have it on, she’d say, “Young lady, where’s your hat?” She moved out, but Steven ran into her at Wal-Mart the other day. She told him to tell me I’d better be wearing my hat. So you see.

We walked into the post office to mail the post cards. Nobody has ever yelled at me to get my dog out, so I guess it’s OK. She wanted to greet a lady who was buying stamps, but the lady did not seem interested.

Since Tabby had been nice enough to accompany me to the post office, I let her choose our directions for the rest of the walk. She pulled me to Hummel’s Office Plus. One clerk, who knows Tabby from previous visits, greeted her by name and walked out from behind the counter to pet her. Another clerk said, “What a sweet dog,” and petted her too. We left when a customer came in needing help, but not before the customer petted Tabby as well.

After that, Tabby pretty much pulled me home. She is quite familiar with the streets of Herkimer. A successful walk from her point of view — petted by three people — and from my point of view — got my post cards mailed. And I got a blog post out of it, although I hope to have something more exciting to blog about soon. Stay tuned!

Walk in the Woods

Sunday was our dog, Tabby’s birthday. I suggested we celebrate with a walk on the Nature Trail at Herkimer County Community College (HCCC).

I was introduced to the trail a few years ago by a then student of the college. We would meet once a week and walk. We had meant to branch out and explore the canal trails as well, but we never seemed to get around to that.

Steven worked till two on Sunday, and we both wanted coffee after that, so we headed up the hill to HCCC shortly after three. It was an utterly beautiful day with bright sunlight. The temperature was a little cool, but we had jackets, I wore a hat, and Tabby, of course, sported her all natural fur coat. No worries about Tabby keeping warm anyways. She was so excited she jumped around enough to keep three dogs warm.

We parked near the gymnasium and walked past the tennis courts and ball fields. Tabby must have remembered the trail, because she eagerly pulled me in the right direction. A sign in front of the trail’s entrance told us that dogs are welcome but must be on a leash.

The trail is not very extensive, but it goes into the woods far enough that you can lose your way if you’re not careful. It loops around a few times as well. The wood chip trail was a little obscured by fallen leaves, but we could also see posts to follow.

I soon started in with my usual walking in the woods jokes.

“If you see a wolf,” I warned, “don’t tell him we’re on our way to visit Grandma.” A little later: “If you see a house that’s all gingerbread and candy, don’t eat it.”

“But what if I’m hungry?” Steven asked.

He had a good point. I’m not much on gingerbread, but what if the trimmings were chocolate? “OK, you can eat some, but if an old lady comes out, don’t talk to her.”

I started making these silly jokes some years ago, when I was in the army attempting to learn how to read a map. After the third or fourth fairy tale reference, a fellow soldier complained, “At this rate, I’ll never make any new friends in the woods.”

I know, I should get some new material.

Steven made a Blair Witch Project reference, “Let’s follow the stream!”

I played along. “OK, we’ll go this way.” The opposite direction. Anyone who hasn’t seen the movie or doesn’t remember: They’re lost, they agree to follow the stream, they totally don’t. Steven and I both point out, while a witch could probably easily mess with a compass, it would take a real bad ass witch to change up a whole stream.

Tabby ignored all our jokes and enjoyed her birthday walk very much. Steven and I enjoyed it too, as well as the view of the countryside when we emerged from the woods and headed back to our car.

I’ve blogged (such a silly verb) many times about running up to and around HCCC. Sometimes I forget to mention that it’s good for walking, too. Check it out.

What I Did Thursday

Once again this week Friday is dead to me, so I cannot offer a real Friday Lame Post. What I intend to write is a Pedestrian Post. Readers can judge its lame qualities for themselves.

I actually had a couple of real Mohawk Valley events I could have attended. The Herkimer Chamber of Commerce was holding an open house at their new digs, and the US Air Force Liberty Jazz Band was offering a free concert. However, my husband was down with a cold, so I had no escort, and I felt my dog deserved some attention.

I also felt guilty that I have been slacking off sending post cards to my soldiers, so I saw my path clear before me: Write a card, walk with Tabby to the post office. Unfortunately, there is a bit of a gap between seeing a path and following it. During that gap, I sat down for a moment and Steven tuned in to one of my favorite crime shows, City Confidential. Suddenly, my shoes and bra were off, and I was happily crocheting while watching all about a murder in Coconut Grove, Florida. I managed to write a post card during a commercial. Tabby waited patiently at first.

“After the show, I’ll put my sneakers on, my bra back on, and we’ll perambulate to the post office,” I said. Like many dog owners, we avoid saying the word “walk.” I’m afraid Tabby has learned either “perambulate” or “post office,” because she got a little agitated. I hurried.

I guess I hurried too fast, because I got almost two blocks away before I noticed I had forgotten my bra. At first I thought I would just keep going and hope nobody noticed. Then I realized that however comfortable bra-less might be while lounging on the couch enjoying cable television, while walking down the sidewalk at a pace set by a lively schnoodle, it is not to be recommended. We turned around.

It’s funny how you can walk a block and a half without really noticing something, then after you have noticed it, it’s HUGE. I was dreadfully uncomfortable. Suddenly my bra was not a torture device dictated by polite society, but my kind, supportive friend.

The stop home was good, too, because I put on a warmer jacket and hat. The jacket originally belonged to my sister-in-law. She didn’t like it after her grandkids called it Goth. It isn’t really. It’s got a weird-looking grey on black design. It is a very warm jacket. The hat was knitted. I had been wearing my crazy old lady hat, but I realized as we left the house again that it was pretty much a crazy old lady outfit anyways. I was also wearing the BDU pants they let me keep when I left the army. I’ve been wearing them to work lately. Very practical for such a purpose. I don’t know what the neighborhood thinks of me, or even if they notice. I try not to worry about it.

We walked to the post office a different way from our usual, going by the historic four corners first. I thought briefly of looking for ghosts, as I did one other time. None were visible from the sidewalk.

The sun was almost down. It made me think sadly of the imminent time change, when it will be dark much earlier. I know, I was just lamenting the 5 pm sunlight during trick or treating. There is just no pleasing me.

Nothing of note happened on the walk, but it was pleasant. Tabby enjoyed it, and my legs appreciated the exercise. I’m hoping Steven will feel better tonight, and we can have a Mohawk Valley adventure.

I Digress

I am lightheaded. I don’t know why: I have not taken any sinus medication since… Thursday? I forget (an effect of the medication? Or my current lightheadedness?). And yet a voice in my head keeps repeating, “But my blog! My blog!”

I have not gone running in two or three weeks (a glance at my running journal would tell me, but that’s downstairs). (My running journal is a journal only by the most generous definition of the word. It is a spiral bound book I bought at Micheal’s for $1, and when I run Steven or I make a note of how long I ran, sometimes including hills climbed and dogs petted.) (Actually, I think it is quite appropriate, considering my runs are actually running only by the most generous definition of the term.) (But I digress.)

So I want to start running again, but I have not even been walking much. So I tried to get in a couple of walks this weekend. Saturday Tabby and I went for two 20-minute walks. It felt very good. And a little cold. We did not encounter anything blogworthy.

Today (Sunday) we went for an almost half hour walk. It was even colder, but the sun was bright. I had on my prescription sunglasses (a wonderful device) but was soon wishing I had also worn a hat. That little line between my forehead and the top of my glasses was blinding me. Too bad I don’t have a Frankenstein-style overhanging brow. That would be practical and seasonal. I normally would have worn my crazy old lady hat with its wide brim, but I had on a knitted headband against the cold. I put my hood up and tried to pull it forward with indifferent success. I crossed the street to enjoy some shade. It is colder in the shade, but I have come to accept that you can’t have everything. Tabby did her business and I discovered that it is not too cold for doggie poop to stink. That’s one good thing about when there’s snow on the ground: you scoop a little up with the poop and it doesn’t stink so bad.

It was after I got home from the walk that my lightheadedness hit me. Seriously, I went to go up the stairs and instead laid down on the landing for about ten minutes. Must be it’s not too cold for the pollens to play havoc with my sinuses. And it is damn hard to write a coherent blog post with your head spinning.

A kind friend wrote me a comment on Lame Post Friday, saying why didn’t I feel free to write what I felt like writing. Since I’m in the Mohawk Valley, anything I write is technically germane. I guess I’ve invoked that rule today. My walks were taken in the Mohawk Valley. When I manage to run again, it will be in the Mohawk Valley. You know what, I’ll bet it’s Mohawk Valley pollens that are making me so lightheaded. So there.

Walk into History

When I took a walk with my schnoodle Tabby on Tuesday, I armed myself with a little notebook so I could write down information from any historic markers I passed. I thought it would make my walk more blogworthy.

Steven suggested I use one of the mini composition books he had put in my stocking at Christmas. I have quite a fascination with notebooks, pens, index cards, binders, clipboards, and other tools of writing. Anyone who shares this interest (I know my Mom likes notebooks) will understand that my walk suddenly became even more interesting.

We walked by the 1834 Jail. The historic marker informed me that the jail had housed Chester Gilette during his trial for the murder of Grace Brown in 1906. I wrote it down, but in fact I did not need to. I know a lot about Chester Gilette. I even wrote a blog post about him once.

I think the other side of the marker told about Roxlanna Druse, who I believe was the last female executed in Herkimer County. That, I could have benefited from writing in my notebook. Unfortunately, Tabby was pulling me in the opposite direction, and since she had already nicely waited while I wrote about Chester Gilette, I followed her. I’ll find out more about Roxlanna for a future post.

No historic markers as we walked down Main Street. Tabby looked longingly at our church, Christ Episcopal, but it was not a good time to cross the street. Anyways, I didn’t know of any historic markers in that direction. Then she wanted to go through the park next to Basloe Library, which I agreed to since it was on the same side of the street. No historic markers, but a couple of interesting trees for her to sniff. So far a good walk for a schnoodle. For my purposes, not so much.

We walked through Meyers Park. I knew there were historic markers there. First I saw a stone fountain. At least, I guess it used to be a fountain. It’s dry now. It was erected in memory of Elisha Washburn in 1909. There may have been a story behind that, but the engraving did not say so. I moved on to the historic markers.

One told me the park had been the site of a burying ground. The graves had been moved to create the park. The other marker talked about Fred’ck Staring, also know as Frederick Starns on the Virginia frontier. He lost sons and grandsons in the Revolutionary War, and was the patriarch of a prominent southern family. The marker was erected by his descendents in 1998. Left unexplained was what Fred from Virginia had to do with Herkimer. I thought I might to an internet search and see if I could learn more, but, um, I didn’t. I guess if I was a dedicated blogger of local history, I would make time for such things. And so we come to the ugly truth about me. But I digress.

To exit the park we walked by a statue of some guy who lived from 1802 to 1890. The engraving said he was proud of being instrumental in women working for the government. I don’t know who it was, because they did not show his name, only his signature, which I found quite illegible.

So that was my historic walk. I’ll head in a different direction next time and see what I can find.

Rummaging Around

While walking with Tabby one day this week, I noticed signs for a rummage sale at Herkimer Reformed Church. The church is on the historic four corners. I’ve blogged about it before.

I made a mental note and kept walking. Tabby directed me toward our church, where she always looks for nice people to pet her.

“There’s no one there, honey,” I told her, but I was surprised to see the door open and a light on. Tabby insisted on going in. They were setting up for a rummage sale there. This is where I confess that I have not been attending church, or I would have known about it.

The sale at Herkimer Reformed Church ran till 6 pm Friday night, so Steven and I thought we’d seize that opportunity. We weren’t sure, though, because two signs said till 6 Friday, one said till 4. Steven was pretty confident, though, with the signs running two to one.

When I got home from work Friday, I remembered I had not sent post cards to my soldiers this week. Scandalous omission; I had been sending two per week. Steven pointed out that I only had two post card stamps left, which worked out, because I’m currently sending to two soldiers.

“The post office closes at five. We can get there by five and buy more stamps,” I said. Of course we had to walk to the post office. Tabby had seen me writing the post cards, and she knows post cards mean walk to post office.

When we left the post office, it was an easy matter to walk home by way of the historic four corners and confirm the rummage sale was still open. It was. We got our schnoodle home and hurried back to rummage.

The Herkimer Reformed Church is such a handsome building. It is a pleasure just to walk through to the basement where the sale was going on. We did not peek into the sanctuary, as we sometimes do at church sales, but I will do that one day.

I made a beeline for the books (actually, that’s a funny word: beeline. Most of the bees I see make kind of an erratic pattern). I found a true crime book by Ann Rule I had not read. She’s the best. I also grabbed a couple of biographies. Then I saw a John D. MacDonald. I could tell by the title it was not a Travis Magee mystery, but MacDonald is always worth a read. When I picked up the book, I saw it was a 75 cent paperback with a pulp fiction cover. I collect those, so I was quite delighted.

Another lady was looking at the books with equal delight. She told me she was stocking up for the winter. Good thought. She showed me a history of Lawrenceville she had found, an old book.

“If I had seen that first, you wouldn’t be getting it,” I told her, to express my envy. She immediately offered it to me, which I thought was very gracious of her. I refused with thanks. There is no reason to be greedy.

Steven found a shot glass for his collection, a tin and a wooden box. We got everything for two dollars. What a deal!

“It’s Friday night,” the lady working the sale said. She invited us back for Saturday’s bag sale. Steven has to work, but I am tempted.

It would be a good idea if I went to the bag sale at my own church today. I’m writing this Saturday morning as Steven prepares for work. Will I go? As they say, time will tell. That time certainly is a blabbermouth.