Twice this week I’ve found myself out for a jaunt not at 10 or 11 a.m. but at 3 or 4 p.m. It’s warmer by then, so I drive to the Glade Trail where tall trees arch across the paved walk and shade pools in deep pockets along the way. 

There are fewer cars parked along the road at that hour, fewer walkers, too. And the ones I see tend to keep their heads down. I’m fine doing that, too, so strolling at that hour tends to feel more solitary.

The air is heavier and the pace is slower, with time to sniff the honeysuckle or take a detour on one of the side paths that wind into the woods. 

On Thursday, the air was so steamy that I felt as slow-moving as the stream, now in full summer dawdle. Forty-five minutes in, I noticed that heavy clouds had moved in and there was a pre-storm excitement that made me pick up my pace. 

I hadn’t been home more than 15 minutes when the skies opened and rain sheeted the house and yard. 

An afternoon amble, just in time.