It’s 46° at 7:45 a.m. Brrrrrr. Absolutely wonderful. Might have to turn the heat on early this year. Yesterday I went for an impromptu walk with an old friend in the bracing wind. It took some time to warm up since I was somewhat underdressed. Few fallen leaves, but in that neighborhood some of the ginkgo trees are female, and there were nuts underfoot.

Christmas is over, time to get on the daily exercise program. I was surprised to see a man reading a book while walking. He didn’t look up, totally engrossed.

In the past, I was almost wiped out by drivers who, while maybe not reading a book, were otherwise multitasking. If the pedestrian is also deeply engaged, I shudder to think what might happen.

Even though the winds were gusty and the temps low, it was a fine day to go for a long walk. My walking friend and I had a lot of catching up to do, news-wise, and the ginkgo trees were at their supreme fall moment, turning the sidewalks and curbs to that wondrous golden yellow.

Hardly anyone else was out, given the cold, except for a man sweeping his driveway up ahead. People are generally very friendly on this route, but he ducked back into his garage. After we passed his drive, we noticed the smell. We both stopped to inspect our shoes, didn’t see anything. The smell prevailed over the next couple of blocks till I stopped and looked again. Surely one of us had stepped in something. Yes, there in the treads.

My friend decided that the man was cleaning away some dog poop. Surprisingly, a lot of dog owners don’t bother to pick up after their pets. Still.

The way home was simply the reverse route. Deep in conversation, we didn’t notice till we walked through the driveway again. This time, we took a close look. It appeared that the sweeper merely spread the stuff around. There was no way to avoid it unless we went into the street.

There was an incident recently, my friend said, when a construction worker client came into her office. The toxic smell that accompanied him throughout the office complex (over several stories) was so pervasive that a pregnant woman in a waiting room was moved to a different area for her safety.

Turned out that the guy had stepped in poop, and being in a hurry for his appointment, reached for the nearest solvent. The combination of diesel fuel and dog feces almost emptied the building.

Last weekend, I did some walking in the hills. The fog was just leaving the green hills in the distance, but came back in. It’s a good thing I went, because those areas are now closed to the public due to fire danger.

My mom died a little over a month ago. Saturday, her only sister also died.

My aunt kept up her daily walks until the Ontario weather got bad around September. In one of our last phone conversations, she confided that she preferred going off on her own, rather than depend on one of her aides. When I expressed alarm, she said she liked her own pace. She was 96. Her daughters decided not to tell her that Mom was gone. But I think she knew.

I called up my walking budding, and told her it was time we got back to our old exercise routine. It was short-sleeve tshirt weather, the flowering trees are starting to show their delicate blooms. And now there are not one, but two kindly and gentle ladies watching over me wherever I go.

Yesterday I went for a Sunday afternoon walk with a friend. There we were, crossing with the green light when my friend screams, and I look up to see a car coming right at me. Nice to know that I freeze in place when something like this happens.

If the driver had been going a little faster, I wouldn’t be here today. The sun was not in his/her eyes, we were in the crosswalk, and it was broad daylight. But I guess none of that matters anymore. Sheesh.

The sexy look of a high heels plus the comfort of a flat. In one shoe. You’re kidding, right?

An idea whose time has definitely come, and one that should be implemented on the majority of high heels.

No more night walks due to the ankle mishap. There’s so much more to see during the day, especially the lot where a house was recently leveled, with a full basement being dug. (Most houses here don’t have basements.)

By the time we had doubled back a time or two to see this or that, and cut through a church’s rose garden, an hour and a half had passed.

Early in the walk, we passed a man with what appeared to be a hunting dog crossed with a mastiff on a long leash. Later my walking buddy said, ‘Is that the strange man again?’

I couldn’t see the dog, and had only a passing glimpse of the man, and told her that I wasn’t sure, the guy earlier had on odd clothes.

‘You mean, dressed like a clown?’ she asked. ‘Yeah, that’s him again.’

The day did have a surreal quality.

I didn’t take the flashlight, being in a hurry. As I rounded the corner I’ve rounded hundreds of times, I managed to twist my ankle. It is quite difficult to type with an elevated leg (ankle above the knee, knee above the hip).

He was taking a brisk walk, and I thought for a second that he had on really long shorts. But no.

Someone ran over a dove down the street. One of the houses leveled is framed up, and looking to be a monster house. Several streets over, the ice cream social sign is still up from the event a couple of weeks ago. Lots of walkers out, due possibly to the weather, which not so hot that you break into a sweat five minutes into a walk, or so cool that you need a light jacket.

Many plants look weary from all the heat of the past few weeks.

We went by the vineyard that someone is cultivating with great success. It was getting dark, and the vines were wrapped in a kind of netting. Peering from close up, we finally saw the clusters of dark grapes.

My walking buddy and I have known each other for a long time, since our kids were little. She can go on and on about something trivial and terribly uninteresting, and I will listen, and make appropriate comments. And then she’ll do the same for me.

In which I was very glad there are no steep hills in the neighborhood after my experience at the San Antonio Preserve. But hills will be on the agenda this weekend.

Lots of fellow walkers out, pleasantly warm. Someone was doing something with beef for supper, but not expertly. The aroma was heavy, not brothy light, and it involved a large amount of beef fat.

The view from one of the trails at Rancho San Antonio Preserve. Parking lots fill up fast.

A recent study that points out the benefits of walking on cobblestones for those with high blood pressure. Today, Rome announces it will be replacing some of its cobblestoned streets with asphalt.

Let’s hope those stones will be recycled elsewhere.

To make replicas, researchers used parts from a deer, a bear, some pig liver and brains, plus soft grass. After testing, it turns out that Oetzi wore shoes superior to modern ones in many ways.

Extreme sleepwalking , thank goodness, is not a recognized sport.

Last night we passed a garden with a sprawling vine that boasted two pumpkins, one a very decent size already. The owner built a special structure to support his sturdy tomato plants, whose fruits put mine to shame. But then they are in full sunlight. Other yards had dwarf apple trees loaded with fruit. Obviously they know something I don’t about the squirrel problem.

This was taken on my evening walk. The plant is entwined with a mock orange shrub, and covered with flowers.

On one corner, someone had just tossed some meat into garlic and oil, or was grilling meat that had been marinated for days in garlic, or some combination thereof. The fragrance followed us past four or five houses. If only I could bottle it.

We were approached by one friendly little schnauzer-like dog, were ferociously barked at by a large black dog behind his gate, and passed one young man working on his car while revealing his plumber’s butt.

Lots of babies taking the air tonight, more people than usual pruning since it is the night before garbage day. One of my neighbors is out with his binoculars looking for the conjunction of planets, despite a street light and many trees in the way. It was still bright when I came in, and Venus is visible.

I skipped the movie, because after a very long day in front of two monitors, I couldn’t face staring at one more.

Sometimes, a holiday meal is spread over several days. I’ve always felt, as readers no doubt realize, that anytime is a good time for barbecued ribs, which are on the menu tonight, along with the melon.

For the 4th, many possibilities await. A boneless lamb leg, more ribs, perhaps with a different sauce, fried chicken or shrimp. I haven’t decided yet. Shish kebab.

The movie is An American Rhapsody with Nastassja Kinski and Scarlett Johansson. Reading the back of the box, it sounds like something that will make me cry. I could duck out for a night walk, and finish the movie tomorrow night, when I can weep into leftovers.

A much later one than usual, at a very good pace. I didn’t look up for the planets till near the end of the walk, mostly because none of my walking friends are interested in the sky. Trees were in the way. Wednesday night I will try again.

The women, mostly in heels, some in 3-inchers, made their way across the stage as gracefully as they could. The men ambled easily, wearing comfortable shoes with large toeboxes. A few of both sexes eased their way with plastic flip-flops.

Bruno Pelassy teamed up with Natacha Lesueur to produce this original concept for a unisex shoe.

Going around a track is safer but less fun than the dark sidewalk route. What started as a 20-minute walk turned into an hour, mostly due to the subject matter, which was Bay Area real estate.

The bad news is, the rain is coming down in buckets. And here I had a late afternoon walk planned.

The good news being the ice cream freezer bowl has been chilling for almost half the prescribed time. Sometime this evening, I will make some vanilla ice cream.

Now, we’re getting hail.

The sun was setting when we headed out, but I took neither the flashlight nor the flashing armband. The smell of barbecues followed us around as we discussed retrievers. labs, border collies, and cockapoos. I miss having a dog, going to look at pups one day soon.

My walking companion heard strange noises coming from her bathroom one night. Hmmm, I thought, this seems familiar. She said it sounded almost like a neighbor was dragging a garbage can around. I asked if it came from the tub area. Maybe the wall next to the tub, she said. She figured it was a rat that had gotten in a crawl space.

Years ago, we had a similar disturbance. Something larger than a rat was under the tub area in the boys’ bathroom. It sounded distressed. I asked one of the kids to bring me a basketball. We pounded the tub for hours, and the sounds ceased.

Many people out working in their yards, mowing grass, pulling weeds, smiling. We stopped so I could take pictures of the Joseph’s Coat roses now in full bloom. My companion spotted the owner, and we learned that he inherited the roses from the previous owner, who did some hybridizing as a hobby.

There were bees, but the wind made it difficult to get a good shot.

More like dusk, though it got dark pretty fast. The big black dog is getting used to us, I think - it was a bit slow getting to the spot at the fencetop where he can look over. No jacket needed, tshirt and shorts weather. I got to see the Joseph’s Coat roses in daylight, prolific bloomer, not much fragrance. Lots of mock orange smells tonight, and in one court, someone had just tossed some garlic in hot oil. People were out in yards, little kids biking, older kids calling to each other about car keys and their dad.

The stars were very clear, but the street and motion detection lights made looking up less fun. My inner clock is trudging toward acceptance of the time change, but not quite there yet.

What started as a quick look at a park turned into an hour-long trek, but a good one. We had hoped to get a glimpse of the sheep that are sometimes allowed to graze here, and found where they were penned up. I was unable to get a good shot. Near the fence was this impressive fellow, who let out a tremendous gobble after his picture was taken. Maybe I should have shown him the result.

Cloudy and cold. When we walk my friend’s route, we have to cross a very busy intersection twice. At times it seems the cars will turn against the light, and right into us. There are fewer sidewalks, which makes it hazardous, and parts of the route are minus streetlights.

At night, the magnolia seed pods, those my kids used to call ‘poofer cones’, look enough like mice to make me stop.

Because it was so clear, we stopped on the way home to look up, even though my walking buddy is not that interested in the stars. If Saturn is to the south, I think we did spot it, and also Pollux. I will check the maps again before the next walk. It is hard to really look if there is only a certain amount of time for a walk, and an errand right after. Even with all the light pollution, it was lovely.

Subjects covered: heart transplant phenomena, , NDEs, black labs, April Fool jokes, car repairmen, The Lovely Bones and how it’s equally riveting the second time around.

We gave the fence with the vicious barker (hard to tell, but maybe a black lab mix) a wide berth, wondering if it was the right fence, and suddenly, there he was! He had a companion who sounded much smaller, and not quite brave enough to stand up there for anyone to see. Near my house, we found the cockroaches, who did not care for my flashlight, and headed for the crevices in the sidewalk. A for sale sign caught our eye, and the flyers weren’t all gone, so we learned the price, which will surely be bid upward.

Is almost impossible while walking at a brisk pace, although we could look up during stops for inhaling deeply of other people’s dinners and the fragrance of their lemon and orange trees. Dodging the debris on the sidewalks is tricky enough with the head down, and the bumps in the paths so easy to see in the daytime make us stumble at night. We resort to walking in the street at times, but that is the most perilous of night hazards.

But I have an idea of what might be visible if conditions are right.

It is one thing to hear a dog barking behind a fence, and quite another to see the dog’s head over the top of a fence within inches of us on the sidewalk. Which got the walk off to a startling beginning. Then we peered through the chain fencing at the junior high, trying to see what the dark masses were, that turned out to be portables.

We slowed down in front of the house where the residents were obviously having beef stew. A house or two down, we stopped, and tried to determine what was being cooked there, but it was elusive. Meaty, steamy, potatoey. From another house came the smell of bread, but not the homemade kind. More like a purchased bread being warmed up.

We never stop talking unless we smell something wonderful. There were no cockroaches under the beam of my flashlight, hopefully the neighbors stomped them all.

There was discussion of Easter dinners, rhubarb desserts, pies, sex offenders, priests, gardeners, roses, daffodils, and egg dyeing.

Yet. On night walks, we find them scattered up and down the street, but so far, they are not coming in the house or garage. Yesterday, someone put a note in the mail slot, announcing that they encountered as many as 300 cockroaches on their night walks, and were instigating their own extermination (stomping) procedures.

My walking buddy and I may have to join the crusade, but I am trying to picture killing that many roaches with my current shoes, the ones that are almost new, very clean, with the big toe box. Of course, there’s always the snail bat. But that’s another story.

Balmy temps, many people out, and another scent that stopped us in our tracks. This time, it was light and floral, most likely lemon blossoms. The only food smell served as a reminder that sometimes, supper is not memorable.

My LED flashlight was met with exclamations from a family group out with their dog. Lawn sprinklers forced us to the street a few times, and we checked, with said flashlight, the progress of the Joseph’s Coat climbing rosebush of one of the residents (covered with buds). It is, for those who are not familiar with such things, a rose of many colors.

In an hour, one can talk about many things. Naturally, I had to bring up that only last week, I had wisely said that perhaps homeland security stocks and related issues were not the thing anymore. The fortunes of a local company rise at any mention of anthrax. We talked of repairmen, especially the continuing parade of them through my front door. Today was the second visit for the dishwasher fellow, the one with the braided goatee. We passed a house for sale, a rare thing these days in the valley.

There was a moon, there were stars, there were trees in full bloom that could not be fully appreciated because of the dark. But we walked on fallen blossoms, and tripped on seed pods that I will show you tomorrow.

On Friday nights there are usually too many cars, but tonight there was foot traffic as well. A sliver of moon was visible, stars in a cloudless sky, but we had to pick up the pace to atone for walks missed. Only one whiff of a dinner being cooked, the overriding smell much of the route being one of either a particularly noxious blooming tree/hedge, or pesticide. Two houses were decorated with green and orange lights. We weren’t sure of the significance of orange, but after a quick Google, now we know.

Talk ranged from homeland security stocks to internet security stocks to people with large, extremely round bottoms, and how they might cope with some of life’s more vexing problems.

One of the holy grails of evening walking: the smell of yeasty dough baking. I stopped in my tracks. There was no dearth of grilling meat smells, it being another warm night after an almost hot day. But we seldom experience the fragrance of bread in such an immediate way, without being the person who had labored to produce the bread. One would have to assume that someone was waiting with oven mitts to take the bread out, or had just done so, and was getting ready to spread some nice butter (or reasonable facsimile) atop a warm slice.

We then talked of vegetarianism, and could we ever imagine life without a steak now and then. Somehow the subject took a nasty turn to hookworms, then tried to steer back to the happier topic of food via Stiff (the book I’m reading), in which the author writes of someone who used a cadaver to determine exactly how much food a stomach can take in before exploding.

Much darker than usual because I forgot my flashlight, but the stars were starrier. Meats were being grilled all along our route after the warmest day of the year. The talk was of cadavers and embalming (I am still reading Stiff), and the sex scandal at the local high school.