Scratchy Early Morning Walk

Walking with Sparky through the shadows early on Sunday morning, scratchy sounds could be heard everywhere in the neighborhood. Most of the scratchy sounds were falling leaves. Some trees are so large the sound is essentially constant under each tree's canopy: there is always at least one leaf gently finding its scratchy way to the ground.

In one case, however, the scratchy sound came from a raccoon perched on a tree trunk, and doing his scratchy best to keep his claws in the bark. We were separated by a low fence, so I couldn't reach him, so I contented myself with waving the pooper scooper in his general direction, making him anxious and eager to dig even deeper into the bark.

In the distance, I could hear scratchy sounds approach. A homeless person approached on the sidewalk with his shopping cart full of cans for recycling. To my surprise, it was Mr. O., the homeless vet. I had never seen him out at night. He looked worried, and a bit winded. I shook his hand and he said, "I thought I had seen you. What time is it?" I replied, "It's after two: maybe 2:45." He said, "Sounds good!" Then, in businesslike haste, off he went, heading south with his burden. I knew Mr. O. attended church in south Sacramento on Sundays, so he was likely in a hurry to travel the remaining four miles, offload the cans and prepare for services. (Just because someone is homeless doesn't mean they don't have places to go and people to see.)

I worry about Mr. O. and the other homeless folks here in Sacramento this winter. The economic woes we've been facing this year have killed the recyclables market: the Chinese are no longer in a hurry to buy the scrap metal, and the stuff is piling up everywhere. The best to them all!