I headed south, figuring I'd start through the eastern edge of a nearby park. It's only a block away, if that, and has horse trails, riding rings for horse shows, picnic areas, a playground, the works. Usually, I only skirt the edge of it when walking or running, using a dirt path.
There was a cool breeze and a definite earthy smell. From somewhere nearby came the sounds of one peacocks. There are several flocks of them in there area, and it's quite common to hear them screeching. The first few times I heard peacocks' cries, I was positive there was a hurt cat nearby. Actually, it sounded like possibly a hurt wild cat - not a feral house cat, mind you, but something like a bobcat in pain. It was eerie sounding. It wasn't until much later that I learned it was a peacock.
A runner was heading north as I headed for the park. We nodded at each other, the way runners or walkers do.
"Those peacocks sure are loud," she said as she passed.
"Yeah, they are," I answered, heading into the park.
Peacock near the entrance to the parkHeading south through the park, I was amazed at the changes along this route. The first area used to be nothing but a large field bordered on two side with woods, scrub brush, and palmettos, more palmettos and a drainage ditch on the east side, and a border of trees as a buffer between a cul-de-sac of houses on the fourth. Now the scrub and palmettos are gone from near the ditch, most of the trees between field and houses are gone, as on the south side of the field. There are fenced riding rings where frequent horse shows take place; these have cropped up over the past few years.
Farther along, across the ditch, there's a stable.
It's been there since for years, and there are always horses there, most of them boarded by different horse owners. At one point, the number of horses dwindled down to one old lone horse, Smokey, owned by the property owner. At one point, I used to occasionally bring Smokey carrots. She has since died, though by that time, they'd started boarding other horses there again.
SmokeyAt this point, I cross the street. It's a secondary avenue, frequently busy enough to warrant a crosswalk for horses and runners, replete with a flashing yellow light that runners and riders can trigger so that traffic gives them the right of way (theoretically). This crosswalk and light are relatively new additions.
As I head cross country, there are a few newer houses that face the avenue, as well as a house that was moved in from its original property. These are on the east side of the dirt road. The newer house - one bordering the trail, but facing the road - has a batch of banana trees at the edge of their property. My family and I once lived in a place that had banana trees; in the four-plus years we lived there, we never once had bananas from the tree, so I find it amazing to see so many banana bunches growing from the trees along this new property line.
Banana treesNext comes the moved in house. It sits on a lake that was once surrounded by woods and scrub brush. I remember being somewhat upset at the loss of some of the woods around the lake; fortunately, when the 100-year-old house was set down near the lake, the property owner kept most of the woods intact.
Just west of the dirt road is a drainage ditch (actually, a continuation of the same ditch bordering the park); beyond that, a subdivision hugs the road I've just crossed. Where that ends, another property with stable for boarding horses begins. This property is for sale; I can't help but think that if I had the money, it wouldn't be for sale for long. It's a comfortable-looking place. Several times, I've had conversations with the owners, calling back and forth across the ditch. Yeah, I think, as I get ready to turn back to head home, if only I had the money...
By the time I arrive home, I'm ready for a shower, glad I've gone out walking.
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