Walkabout II: To the Library

As an underemployed person, I have plenty of time to walk to the local branch of the Austin Public Library. To make the trip more fun yesterday, I brought along Muzzy. Here's some of what we saw. Note: You can't take the #19 bus to the library; however, you can take it to the Dog Park, as long as you don't bring the dog.

Vintage sign in our neighborhood. Oops. I cut off the actual lantern. Sorry. Still, you get the idea: Faux nostalgia.

These two statues need to be seen side-by-side. Bare-footed golfer and his caddy are a bit bigger than life-size. Muzzy flipped out the first time she saw them.

The Texas State Cemetery is across the street.

These birds need sweaters.

Tell us how you really feel.

Bridge over Shoal Creek

See the litter behind the sign?

Two enormous lurking vultures. Check out the wingspan on the one in the foreground. Muzzy actually barked at them. Whenever I see vultures, I feel a little frisson of dread. I always have to remind myself that they are scavengers. They are not the kind of creature that will swoop down and pick up a little dog and her owner, like the monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. Still, they creep me out.  

Our local Kwikee Mart. It really is right around the corner!

No comment.

Look. The sign actually uses an apostrophe. Clayton's what, exactly?

Once a movie theater, the building is now the local library—the Yarborough branch. Yarborough is the third of the triad of Austin names I get always get mixed up. The other two are Scarborough's and Yarings, both once-grand downtown department stores. Put the two store names together, and you get Yarborough's—no wonder I'm confused.

Here's another warning that is not posted--NO DOGS ALLOWED! I had tied Muzzy to a post in front of the library and dashed in to collect a book. On my way to the checkout, one of the librarian's stopped me to ask if "that was my little dog waiting out front." I could see Muzzy sitting so patiently. Well, yes; yes, it was. There was some hemming and hawing, and then another librarian told me, sotto voce, "They don't like having dogs tied out front." News to me! I've parked my dogs out there a handful of times in the past. I apologized, grabbed my book, and ran out to Muzzy. Stupidly, I thought that the librarians were concerned for the dogs' well being, but the one who followed me out to pet Muzzy explained that people who are afraid of dogs have complained. It was not clear if the no-dog policy is official or not. The librarians were very sweet, however. They did not threaten to call Animal Control. But the news did ruin our walkabout. We were scofflaws again! Even when leashed!

So much signage; so many, many rules.

Thanks for coming along with us. -z

Urban Walkabout

As I've mentioned, Muzzy and I made resolutions to walk more and be more adventurous. On New Year's Day, Dog Park was only one stop on a vigorous urban walkabout. Here are some of the sights.

We cut through Dog Park and headed down to the creek.

There's been tons of erosion. Live Oaks used to hold the embankment together, but over the past few years, several have collapsed into the creek, leaving only torn roots. The water was surprisingly clean.

We decided to climb up the embankment to the east side of the creek. Below a view of Dog Park from under that tree.

The building that backs up to the creek and Dog Park is the Texas State Library. It is a very mysterious building. The door makes two ominous statements: "Authorized Access Only" and "No Public Restrooms." (!!). So don't make any attempt to enter this building. What exactly goes on inside, I'd like to know.

Even the parking sign says, "Tsk, tsk."

Our urban walk continued, along Shoal Creek and then on to the new sidewalks on 45th Street.

Here is the view of Dog Park from the 45th Street bridge. Parkers know that Crazy Guy lives dangerously close to here. I knew that I was taking a risk. In fact, as I was snapping this shot, he revved his fancy, black sports car out of his driveway and tore down the street. That is as close to CG as I want to get.

A lavender wall on 45th Street.

A sign on an nearby neighbor's fence. She's not kidding with this sign. She trains Dobermans. Occasionally, she conditions them by riding her bike while a Dobie trots along beside, tethered by a mere cloth leash. They both sneer at us mutts as they cruise by. Inside, Muzzy and I shrink a little.

Why our street, two-blocks long and dead-end, rates two signs, I'll never know. No one can ever find our street. The extra sign isn't really helping flag people down. Almost every week, I find a driver stranded in our neighborhood. "How do I get to Mopac?" is the plaintive cry. I feel so powerful, holding another's fate in my hand. "Ha, ha, ha. You can't get there from here."

Thanks for walking with us.
-z