My walk day before yesterday was what Julia Cameron would call an “artist’s date,” a break in the routine, something that you do for yourself once a week to shake yourself out of lethargy.

I do it once a month if I’m lucky. And I’ve written about it in this blog before. But it was a year ago, so it bears repeating.

It is humbling to notice how much we become creatures of our own habits. My interest in the history of our area, the rolling hills and crossroads of what is now called Oakton, stems in part from a random decision I made about 14 months ago to drive home from work a new way, along some of the roads I now want to comb and investigate.

From such small acts come benefits beyond measure.