Cut-Through, Continued

Cut-Through, Continued

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As it turns out, Parker’s Mill Road does have a sidewalk, at least in part. And today I took that sidewalk out into “the country,” which is surprisingly close to this part of Lexington. The fences are black instead of white on this road — though less than a mile away are the famous white fences and red accents of Calumet Farm, home of many Derby winners.

But today I was the one doing the running, not just the thoroughbreds. I trotted down Parker’s Mill into Cardinal Valley Park, following the signs that said “Walking Trail,” and found myself on a beautiful paved path that ran a mile or more. Trees arched over the trail and it was pleasantly busy with dog-walkers, amblers and what appeared to be an entire high school track team.

It was late afternoon. The sun was warm and slanting, the air cool and refreshing. And there settled on me that kind of well-being that it’s tempting to call “runner’s high” — but is more than that, I’m convinced; is some amalgam of fresh air, exertion and the mind-jostling that comes with movement.

Whatever it is, today it was made possible by the cut-through. As I climbed back over the fence toward home, I gave a silent cheer.

Cut-Through

Cut-Through

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A couple days ago, I parked and walked on Lane Allen, a hilly road I’ve grown fond of on recent visits to Lexington. It has a tree-canopied section — the most treacherous of all, of course, no shoulder, no sidewalk but on the north end some trampled grass, the pedestrian’s makeshift sidewalk.

On this particular walk I turned and looked behind me, back to Parker’s Mill, an even hillier, sidewalk-less road, and noticed that the field behind St. Raphael Church abutted property I thought was along my usual route.

Yesterday I tested the theory. This involved tiptoeing through a backyard, scaling a fence, crossing a  creek and almost entering a horse pasture by mistake. But eventually I found my way to the church property (they won’t mind trespassing, I reasoned) and over to Lane Allen.

 It was a small discovery, but it made me unreasonably happy. Now I can take a beautiful walk without driving to it. Now I know the real lay of the land.  I’m that much closer to being a walker in this suburb.

Heedless Birds

Heedless Birds

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The birds woke me this morning. Well, not really. But I was conscious of them at an early stage of awakening. I was thinking about their bravery. They have no choice but to be themselves. And that, as we know, is not always easy.

This time of year birds are heedless. It’s springtime and they’re taking chances. Bumping into windows, buzzing cars. They are high-wire artists, full of song and derring-do. They have mating on their minds, of course. They will stop at nothing to find their lady (or gentleman) loves. They may as well be deer dashing across the highway. But if I ran into a bird I wouldn’t dent the car.

So add to the list of spring marvels the madness (and madcapness) of birds. They flit, they soar, they perch on electric wires. They throw their slight bodies gladly into the world.

Dean’s Ravine Today

Dean’s Ravine Today

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Yesterday there were balmy breezes, scented air. The wind scattered petals over greening lawns.

Today it’s cold and snowy. The daffodils hang their heads. The red buds are coated in white.

It’s all part of the process, I know, two steps forward, one step back.

But it’s chilling — in more ways than one.

Mrs. Dean’s Ravine

Mrs. Dean’s Ravine

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Mrs. Dean has been gone more than two decades now, but her garden is still thriving — a legacy for its current owners (who have lovingly cared for it) and those who live nearby.

It starts off innocently enough: daffodils and forget-me-nots.

But it soon slopes down a steep hill into a bowl-shaped parcel studded with red bud and dogwood. It’s a secret garden, a natural ravine designed to look as wild as possible. I’m glad I could see it as it’s just coming alive to spring.

Blue Grass Stakes

Blue Grass Stakes

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The Kentucky Derby is the first Saturday in May — but in Lexington it’s the second Saturday in April when all eyes turn to the track.

That’s when the three-year-old Derby hopefuls race in Keeneland’s Blue Grass Stakes. Yesterday’s winner, Dance with Fate, may not race next month, but that didn’t dampen turnout — it was the second largest crowd in history. The 77-degree temperature didn’t hurt.

So there were picture hats and tailgate parties and that familiar damp smell under the grandstand. There was the fine dirt flying up from galloping hooves down the back stretch. And there was the crescendo roar from the crowd when the thoroughbreds crossed the finish line.

Not that I was there. I’m just imagining it.

Cherry Blossoms!

Cherry Blossoms!

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It was the end of a long day, a long week — and it was a long walk, too. But I left the office yesterday a little before 5, cruised through Judiciary Square, the Penn Quarter and onto the Mall. By that point the mood was decidedly celebratory.

And even though I said I wouldn’t do it again, I walked all the way around the pink-petal-rimmed Tidal Basin, joining the throngs on one of the first warm days in the nation’s capital.

It’s worth noting that unless you want to rent a paddle boat, strolling is the only way to see the cherry trees in their glory.

So I did. As did everyone else.  Babies in prams, bikers in spandex, bureaucrats in blazers — we were
all ambling for one purpose: to see the cherries in peak bloom and welcome the
spring.

It has been such a hard winter … but now it’s over.

Hallelujah!

After the Deluge

After the Deluge

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The pipe burst on Friday, the day after I sent the magazine to the printer. I was working at home, but colleagues noticed water seeping under my door and puddling on the carpet. They called facilities, which sent personnel, shop vacs, large fans, drying machines. My desk and file cabinet were put on blocks.

The hard work paid off.  Other than a few water-damaged boxes (which I’ve tossed) the place looks better than it did last week.

The waters came, raged and departed.

They left behind a stiller, calmer world.



(This may not look still and calm, but compared with last week…)

Spring Coat

Spring Coat

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The one I remember was teal and beige, nubby and flecked. It was lightweight and lined. It was essential in the way that white gloves were once essential.

It was my spring coat.

I thought of it this morning as I trudged to work in my winter coat. It’s what I turn to when the temperature is in the 30s, which it was when I left the house.

But it’s ten degrees warmer here in the city, and the coat suddenly seems a relic, an anomaly, something that should be buried in the back of the closet.

What I need today is a spring coat, a bridge from season to the other.

Big Blue

Big Blue

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This is not a sports blog, of course, but I must say a few words about the University of Kentucky men’s basketball team. They lost last night 54-60 to the University of Connecticut Huskies in the NCAA final.

The team’s energy felt different right from the opening buzzer. Key players seemed off, were in and out of the game. Free throws missed as often as they hit. The Cats had finally met a team that closed as strong as they do. Stronger, in fact.

If this was a decade ago, we’d be shaking our heads at what they could do next year, this young, freshmen team. But this group is a one-year wonder. Most of them will be gone next year, in the NBA, most probably.

It’s hard to say that “one and done” is a failure when this team made it to the finals. But it’s not the kind of basketball I grew up with.

Still, I have to say it one more time: Go, Big Blue!


(A UK dormitory building snapped from the UK Library.)