Walking my Neighborhood with Intention

On my first walk of this soon to be well known route, I noticed a myriad of sights, sounds and physical sensations. I don't have very much in the way of a sense of smell, though I did twice notice the scent of perfume. 

The neighborhood is unusually quiet, with the rustling of leaves, and the sound of workers replacing a roof in the hot mid afternoon sun. I pass well kept lawns, with sidewalks lazily strewn with bits of trash - a discarded mask, bits of packaging, broken bottles, cigarette butts. With no clouds to block the sun it is warm and bright, but constant reminders of the pandemic disturb the peace of my observations. I am disheartened to see that while most of the houses are single family homes, there are not signs of support for any social justice issues. The occasional car glides by on the brand new asphalt, accompanying the whoosh of the soft cool breeze, and the gentle chirping of birds. I'm drawn to investigate what doesn't repeat - a flower or plant I've never seen before, iron markers from 80+ years ago in the sidewalk, the dance of the shadows the bright sun and canopy of leaves creates on the textured pavement.