May Mental Health Awareness Month – Go Retire Psychiatrist

I put 2.5 miles on the step counter today walking on the Clear Creek Trail, so my feet are complaining a bit more.

Sena didn’t come with me on the walk today because of some gardening she had to do. She deals with foot issues and has been trying shoe inserts lately. Trimming them is an inexact science, but she got it right. The thing was, her feet hurt even worse with the inserts.

That’s because they were upside down. There are raised gel contours around the bottom for extra support, which have to face downwards in the shoe. They were a lot more comfortable for her once they were in right side up.

I didn’t get any shoe inserts because my new shoes fit pretty well. I walked a little further than usual, moving east on the part of the trail which has a fair number of ups and downs. It feels more like a nature walk (which is on the Make It OK Calendar for May Mental Health Awareness Month).

The trail is paved, but the trees and other vegetation are thick and tend to crowd around both sides. The trees sometime bend in archways across the path.

It was tempting to park my butt on the bench, but just sitting might have invited more flying bugs to buzz around my ears—despite applying enough OFF to defend me and a few other people.

We’ve walked this trail many times, but I saw something a little unusual today. There’s a big old dead tree that looks like a tuning fork.

I set a goal to reach a familiar place that’s high enough and cleared of foliage to see the creek from high above. That’s where I saw the 3 ducksateers: mallards in a line swimming up and down the stream in a sort of aimless way, yet determined to make good time.

After I returned to the trailhead, I heard the camera-shy gray catbird I always hear in a tall shrub right next to the trail. I sat in a bench close by with my camera out. It made the typical catbird noises, which sounds like a collection of whistles, creaks, and meows. But it hid in the leaves and when it burst onto the paved trail, it moved too quickly for me to get a shot.

I think the catbird hides in the trees right next to other birds, like robins, just to misdirect you. And that fooled me today–again. I thought I got a video clip of the catbird—but it turned out to be a robin, hamming it up for the camera like robins always do.

So, I included an old picture of a real catbird I took about a year and half ago.

So, I’m not strictly following the Make It OK Calendar per day for May Mental Health Awareness Month, at least according to the Iowa Healthiest State Initiative. Sometimes the goals on the calendar may not feel natural on a particular day or the opportunity might not appear.

Today, I’m a few days late on the Smile at a Stranger prompt and I figure better late than never. I was out for a walk to Clear Creek, testing out my other pair of new shoes (they’re black which is the only difference).

I didn’t encounter anyone on the way there, but I did see the geese pair I saw yesterday. I think this is the same pair I’ve seen over the years and they always return to about the same area by the creek where I suspect they nest. They honked raucously as they always do as they flew in from the north before landing on the water. The female walks up the shore a few steps and just stands there while the male floats in the creek close by, protectively. I never get to see exactly where the female enters the tall grass to start building a nest. I wonder if it’s because they both sense some nosy person like me is watching them.

Anyway, on my way back I smiled and greeted 3 people who were strangers to me. One was an old guy like me, out for a walk. We smiled and said hi to each other.

The other two were special. There was a kid on a tricycle, coming in hot down the hill straight for me. There was a big guy I figured was his dad bringing up the rear behind him, murmuring words of warning about the obvious risk of so much hi octane tricycle speed down a hill.

The kid was hurtling down so fast that I thought “Am I going to have to catch him?” It reminds me of an old song written and sung by Bill Withers in 1971, “Grandma’s Hands.” The relevant lyrics:

“Used to issue out a warning
She’d say, Billy don’t you run so fast
Might fall on a piece of glass
Might be snakes there in that grass…”

Then the kid put out both feet and made a long sliding stop just a few yards short of me—and grinned wide.

I grinned back and called out, “Hey, rocket man!” He waved and said “Hi!” And so did his dad, who smiled wide. I said “How you doin’?” and he replied “fine! How are you?” I said “I’m good” or something like that.

Smiles can work that way sometimes.