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Category: walking

Without the Directions

Without the Directions

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On a doggie walk this morning I was stopped short in my tracks. Tree limbs were shiny, glazed with ice. It was unexpected and almost magical.

It was the best of both worlds, too, because the pavement wasn’t affected. There was friction on the driveway, fairyland up above.

I hadn’t known this was coming, hadn’t read weather reports that freezing rain was in the forecast.

It struck me then, and I second it now, that life is more exciting when we forget to read the directions.  

Loud and Low

Loud and Low

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When the winds howl, the planes fly loud and low over the house. I snapped this photo yesterday while on a breezy walk. 

Throughout the length and breadth of the neighborhood I was the only soul out for a stroll.

Call it cabin fever or just plain stubbornness. Whatever it was, it put me in place to snap this shot. 

Framing

Framing

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In class we talk about the “death” of the author which makes room for the “birth” of the reader, of interpretive communities that shape our understanding of literary works, and of the “indeterminacy” or gaps in meaning that allow for an aesthetic response. 

That last one seems like the loft and lightness of a shook comforter, the air pockets that provide fullness to linens and literature. 

It’s fun to think about. Just as it’s fun to think about framing, the narration of a tale that makes it what it is. Here I am, walking down a trail, pausing to snap a shot, my shadow in the photo. Life mirroring art … or something like that. 

Counterclockwise

Counterclockwise

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Today I went left rather than straight out of my neighborhood and took a familiar walk in the opposite direction. 

There were the fronts of houses I usually see only the backs of; there was the wooded trail glimpsed from afar, through a backyard. 

There were ponds glinting in the morning sun, which was in my face rather than over my shoulder. 

There was this warm winter morning, made new by a change in rotation, clockwise, rather than counter.

Going Nowhere

Going Nowhere

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A walker in winter may be trapped indoors by rain, ice, snow or cold. For several years now, though, I’ve had a secret weapon, a way to walk inside that doesn’t involve pacing. That would be the elliptical in the basement. 

The machine is designed to work out not just the legs and hips but also the arms and shoulders. The only part of the body it leaves untouched is the brain, that restless organ. 

Outdoor walks provide a moving display of images on which to dwell: familiar houses comfort, treed paths shelter, new vistas enliven.

But the elliptical walker has, if she wishes, a TV with streaming shows and old movies and whatever else she can find for distraction. She has a library of music and books to plug into on her phone. She has, in short, the world at her fingertips. And so she walks, and walks, and walks … going nowhere but quite content. 

Mall By Myself

Mall By Myself

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Yesterday, I was a walker in the city, not the suburbs. I began at 18th and L, deep in the business district. But that’s not where I stayed.

The Mall was my destination, heading toward the Capitol and my former walking route, site of numerous lunchtime strolls.

The monuments were there, glinting in a warm winter sun. The White House, the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian’s Arts and Industries building.

What was missing, what always seems to be missing these days, was the people. Empty thoroughfares make good straightaways, but what I would give if this scene were clogged with tourists and pickup soccer games and pale office workers out for a noontime jog.

Georgetown Gazetteer

Georgetown Gazetteer

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Tomorrow, my humanities class moves from online to in-person, so I’ll drive to Georgetown again, as I was doing last fall.  I’m looking forward to meeting classmates in person, though of course there will be the nervousness of any new venture. 

I took a trial run of sorts on Friday when I visited campus for a required Covid test. That was accomplished in minutes, which left plenty of time for a stroll around campus and through the neighborhood.

Flurries were flying as I walked the brick sidewalks and dreamed myself into the Federal townhouses. There was the buff pink with dark green shutters, a stately corner manse, a teal-shuttered beauty with the view of Georgetown Visitation. 

It’s a tough choice … but I’ll take one of those mansions on Prospect, one with a river view, please. 

Monochromatic

Monochromatic

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It was just above freezing yesterday when I set off through the woods down a path that leads to our sister neighborhood on Westwood Hills Drive. I had walked there a couple weeks ago and admired the forest views, the courts and cul-de-sacs, the feeling of being on the other side of the looking glass. But I’d driven to that walk. This one was solely by shank’s mare. 

Finding new ways to escape the neighborhood on foot is becoming a minor obsession. I enjoy the great suburban irony — driving to walk — but still like to subvert it whenever possible.

Yesterday’s walk was a pleasing mix of sedate street and woodland trail. The ground was thawing in the latter and mud was a factor (my shoes were banished to the garage after the stroll). But I plunged on, making a large loop through the still, spare, monochromatic landscape. 

Frozen Walk

Frozen Walk

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It was a frozen world I walked through yesterday. Bundled up in my warmest coat, hooded and thick-socked, I made my way along the Franklin Farm trails, which were understandably empty. You know it’s cold when even the dog-walkers stay inside. 

The paths were mostly clear, but any pooled water was frozen solid. I stopped and examined the ice, snapped photos, wondered why some ice is milky white and other is clear, thought perhaps I should have learned that in high school but did not. Mostly, I moved quickly. A winter walk is bracing, as long as it’s short. 

Wind-Whipped Walk

Wind-Whipped Walk

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On Friday, ahead of what I’d heard would be a snow-stormy weekend, I took a brisk walk around Lake Audubon. Well, not exactly around, but as far as I could go. 

The wind had already picked up, and it was moving across the lake, creating patches of sunlight on the water that glimmered and moved with the wind.

I was wearing my warm black parka with the faux-fur-lined hood, which kept me warm but hampered movement, so I wasn’t skittering ahead as quickly as I usually do. But I was comfortable and meditative and feeling energized by the wind in my face. 

These are the moments that gladden the lives of walkers everywhere — or at least this one.