Walk at the Basin

The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all her might; she did her very best to make the billows smooth and bright, and this was odd because it was the middle of the night. Here in the city, the sun was very shining except it was upon the lake and head of the river. I went for a walk in a direction I haven't been in maybe two years; I live right near the thing and rarely go that way. The point of interest was to see what plants they were testing in the beds down at the Marina, for one of my goals this school year is to have the kids plant a garden of mostly perennials, so they can witness the plants growing along with them. Grow and Read. What do you think?

There are two narrow strips originally designed as raised flower beds surrounded by concrete that have been let go, becoming just grass to be weed whacked. I think if we could just stuff a few here and theres, it would brighten the space and with luck, last a few years. The students could weed and water and see just how a garden works. I have taken this walk, then, as a step towards beginning research.

Also have to clear this with administration, but it was meant to be planted, so what's up? There is also abandoned space where a small playground was, and that could be used as a vegetable patch, further down the road. A sunflower house. Well, that's waaay later. There are urban gardens springing up left and right; big one between Fillmore Avenue and Wilson Street, smaller ones run by community groups. I wonder if the Buffalo Conservancy, which tends the garden outside the museum, would be willing to divide up some plants for us, really, the spot isn't that large. It's just empty.

Maybe the Botanical Gardens could divvy up some of its outdoor plants, and furthermore, most of our school staff have gardens with potential donations available. You know, when public areas clean out oh, say, tulips after the blooming season is finished, the bulbs are pulled and tossed. I know Buff State does that, as well as the Niagara Parks commission. If you know someone, there's bags for free. I don't know anyone, but I can introduce myself.

But anyway, on the walk towards the Hatch there are now carved statues from the immense trees felled by the October Storm of 2006. It is rather fabulous looking. The gardens are lovely, if concentrated and when turning a corner, there was a little brown bunny not too alarmed to see me lurching around. I found a penny. Petunias mobbed the beds in vivid Congo pinks, zinnias threw flames deeply scarlet and ravishing. Ornamental grasses were purple and fireworks red. Just lush, sumptuous.

I moved on to see people with lawn chairs dragged out of car trunks watching the goings on in the basin and further out on the lake. There were many sails apparent, perhaps participating in a race because they seemed to be going in the same direction, mostly. Sailboat races, because everyone's brother has a different class in this area, are handicapped to even up the field. You have to wait till they all get in before anyone can say yippee. Pretty to watch.

And there were geese. Lines of them. Gulls were about, but the Canadian geese swam neatly, conversationally, with wings tucked politely and no pushing or shoving. A couple rose up from the surface and I felt that thrill at watching an animal do something marvelous with little effort. To fly. The air rippled under their wings as two glided low over aqua colored water, silently.

Continuing towards the end of the berm, there really is quite a lot to see. The shoreline was swept of the skeletal mounds of driftwood that once filled the shore almost to the top of the slabs of stone put there to buffet waves. The stone slabs had also been built up more, with some gargantuan pieces of Medina red sandstone tossed in like checkers amid grey chunks. Columbine, Virginia creeper, Butter and Eggs, Moth Mullein, and I think a bit of poison ivy (it wouldn't surprise me, ivies in this latitude have increased a hundredfold because of climate change) grew from crevices.

Made it to the small, municipal "beach" with added sand and a sign sternly and correctly warning not even to stick your toe in beyond this stretch, the current is that bad, and it really is. Wading in the safe area seemed okay, but here is where nature hit the fan. Those lovely, regal geese must use the area as a morning spa, for goose feces was everywhere as well as the short, fluffy feathers that line under wings and chests. It was a supreme mess.

One family was allowing their little girl to play at water's edge in bare feet with a pail and shovel and lord watch over that she doesn't come down with a bad case of stomach cramps. Could someone not rake this small strand of sand? Not that it would take away the minutiae of bacteria, but for heaven's sake, if you make a play area available where you know people will be, do something about cleaning it. How could geese be convinced to go elsewhere?

Heading back off the berm, then, and to home. The sun felt so good. I had found catnip gone to seed poking through the slabs of rock and nipped some dried buds to scatter closer to my doorway. Grabbed a few green stems of chives for a potato later. That's me, pioneer woman.

Speaking of geese, when the economy sank and food prices became just plain ridiculous, I decided that if necessary, I could either supplement the menu with PCB loaded fish from the lake, or grab one of them birds and give it a quick whack in the noggin. The cats and I could live for a week off one. A can of Cream of Mushroom will kill the taste from almost anything except itself. Seriously, I worry and try to come up with solutions.

I don't have to kill any geese today, so that's good; the air is cool and dry and it is Sunday night. Two more days of summer school and then a few classes and hopefully good news. And more walks. You see so much more and get to say hi to folks as they pass. I think we all try to squeeze Sunday to the last drop.

Need to push a few things back in place before retiring to bed. Just a few, the rest can wait, I heaved a number of items to trash this morning and am now scanning the area for more. Airing out a few jackets, one of which I just rebought two days ago and don't regret. I got the piece from my favorite store, AmVets, and grew too big for it. It has a cat pattern woven as a sort of tapestry, but since I was donating things too small last spring, it went.

I have watched that jacket after it was put up on the rack for sale again for the past three weeks, hoping someone would wouldn't buy it. Only a cat lover would. Say, I'm a cat lover, but well, reality is such that I wasn't wearing it. From the rack, however, the little cat faces would look at me from the sleeves and frontpiece and I would think, oh, that one looks like my Martian, my Lucy, my Kai, my Muffin. Arrgh. So, here it is again. Heck it was only five bucks and a basketful of peace of mind.

It happens that you give things away and rarer that they return to you. Funny, for inevitably this jacket, all jackets, will be given away, passed on, donated or tossed. Nothing, not even a slab of stone lasts forever. Shorelines shift and rebuild, walls tumble, frames are bulldozed. Let go of what you can but recognize that there is nothing wrong with sentiment, nothing.

Sleep well with the belief that you are loved and safe, that there are objects around you that remind you of where you have been and where you desire to go. Totems, charms, amulets, they are part of our psychological trappings that comfort and call our name in the night when we wonder what we are doing here and why. Moon and wheeling stars, sleep.