Wandering Home
As much as I extoll the practice, walking in the suburbs is largely for exercise and mental refreshment, for perspective. It’s difficult to run errands or visit folks without jumping in the car.
But yesterday I had time to amble through the woods to meet a friend, who lives on the other side of a county forest.
On the way there I had my eye on the clock, picking up the pace to reach her house more or less when I said I would. But on the way home I savored the green splendor of the stroll, birds ruffling the underbrush, stream water pouring over and around a flat rock.
It felt like rain, clammy and portentous. I took my time, reveled in the mood and the moment. I wandered home.
