My walk yesterday afternoon was a brisk 15 minutes down the road from my house, and the requisite distance back. I know I can walk a mile in a little under 30 min, so I set a timer on my phone to tell me when to turn around.
It had been awhile since I’d been down that stretch of road. As I got farther along, I got the feeling like I was starting an adventure in another world; the occasional patch of sunlight coming through the dense treetops, and the dim forest floor stretching away on the side of the road.
And then I came upon the field, where a local business grows Christmas trees and mows hay, and has for at least as long as I’ve lived here (20-ish years). And as I walked farther afield I felt a quiet joy come over me, tinged with nostalgia….
My family (way back in the day) used to own a second piece of property beyond the field, where we would come on summer days and spend the day as a family cutting down trees for firewood in the winter. And in the winter that property had a road that went up a decent hill, which we would go sledding down. (I think that’s where my Mom broke her fingers, sledding into a tree…)
After we moved to our current house and sold the wood-lot, we’d take bike rides up the road, past the field and into the hills. Once we even passed the reservoir out there, and found a connecting road, and followed that back to civilization in a big, tiring loop.
During the winters, my folks would drive us up to the top of the hill on the far edge of the field, and we’d sled down the roads dividing trees from fields.
Yesterday I took my walk when I knew a storm was coming, and I watched the dark clouds roll over the hills beyond the field. The wind heralded the coming rain, starting high in the trees and moving down to the earth. I got my umbrella opened just as the rain started, and finished walking home with the storm.
It was a good walk, invigorating and peaceful and stormy, and coming back to the house felt like stepping out of a dream.