Life in the Flats (Plant life, that is)

It sounded like a great time.

Early in March, my friend invited me to come on a nature walk in, of all places, the Flats. The organizer would walk us along a trail to see wildflowers galore.

Okay, fine. Maybe to some of you that doesn't sound like a great time. Perhaps if there were alcohol involved, you say, then it would be a great time.

I don't need alcohol to enjoy my life, punks.

So it sounded like a great time.

On a warm Friday evening, later in March, I parked my car near the Sokowlowski's University Inn in Tremont to enjoy the sights. A small crowd had gathered across the street. Many other people also thought this sounded like a great time. At first I thought, "This can't be the tour group I'm with." I'd imagined it would only be maybe a half dozen people. Then I saw Katie in the crowd.

I joined her and some friends she'd also brought along. Our guide, a man, maybe in his mid 50's holding a microphone, began, "I'd expected, uh...maybe ten people tonight, but this is okay." He looked out over the crowd of probably between 30 and 40 people. I looked around for the amplifier for the mic. My eyes finally found a woman, about the same age of the man, who was carrying it along. I guess she was his wife.

Don't let anyone tell you there's nothing to do in Cleveland.

We began walking south on University Road, which follows the Industrial Valley area. It was actually a very pleasant walk. The houses were beautiful. The sky was a darkening blue. The people, upbeat. I don't remember much of what was said about the wildflowers. Unfortunately, the crowd as so unexpectedly large (and growing. People joined us as we walked.) that I couldn't really hear our guide anymore. I do remember he said some kind of common weed had hallucinogenic properties. I don't remember what it was.

At one point, we passed some really neat row houses. They were very modern looking, yet fun. They were painted different colors. (You can see them from the highway when you're on the Innerbelt Bridge.) I thought they were "cute" and said so. I was also pleased to see that they looked just as nice up close as they did from far away. My friends, being all architects and therefore not pleasant to talk "cute house" with, decided to walk up and knock on the siding to see what it was made out of. I pretended I wasn't with them.

Eventually, we were guided past all the beautiful houses and into the Industrial Valley. We walked along an empty post-apocalyptic road. Car doors and beer cans littered the sides of it. The smell of sulfur mixed with something else filled the air. It smelled a lot like dirty baby diaper. Dirty. Dirty with number 2.

The now 50 to 60 people trailed quietly behind the guide. Some of us found a dead bird. It was a Northern Flicker. It's almost iridescent wings spread against the cracked, dirty pavement. A woman cried out, "It's beautiful!" It really was. I think the baby diaper smell killed it as it flew.

Finally we reached the end of our walk. The Cuyahoga River stretched out before us. Well, I think it did, but I'm not going back there without a gas mask. It was a strange, fascinating, somewhat dismal landscape. All I remember at this point was a discarded car door, the smell, and looking up at a factory as the setting sun hit its west side casting an orange glow. Oh, and the smell.

Suddenly, a PT Cruiser backed up to the crowd. Our guide announced that we could have something to drink. I really didn't want anything except, ah yes! 7up. As others sipped champagne and various wines I opted for the former flu time cure of my childhood. This had to be the weirdest night ever. It was the most interesting time I've had since moving here. I'm glad I went!

Afterward we walked away, back up to Tremont and perused the Banyan Tree. (where I cannot bring myself to buy anything. $350 sweater?? I don't think so!)

Oh and there weren't any wildflowers. We were way too early in the year for that.

OOOH! My First Post

I asked my fiancee, Brian, what my first post to my new blog should be about.

"Nothing," he said.

"You mean, I shouldn't have a blog at all?"

"No. It should be about nothing, like Seinfeld."

I thought that sounded hackneyed, and must have given him a look that said so because he added, "That's what it's going to end up being about anyway." He waved his arm around. We were sitting on our greenish couch in our very green living room. Our two cats fought off and on nearby, punctuating the otherwise peaceful evening with an occasional meow. Brian was watching football and I'd just finished studying for a test.

Point made. There's no drama here (save for that between the two cats). No angst filled poems. No deep emotional pits. No traumatic revelations.

Just a couple in Cleveland, Ohio and their two cats.

Yet, I think I may have some ideas...once I figure out how best to say it.

!!!

....insult to my dignity just now. One of the two cats just used my shoulder as a diving board. This is going to be harder than I thought.