I forget that my feet are soft from wearing shoes. Walking over ragged tarmac and gravel. My toes find the cooler smooth cement in the gutters. No breeze. Middle of the day. Walking across the park to deliver a hand painted placemat. Jenny has chooks and so I walk back with a dozen eggs.
Sometimes I imagine walking into nowhere. Australia has some first class nowhere - stretches of curved horizon with shimmer and red dust. But I like tall timber so I imagine walking, or riding a bike, east and south into cooler country, through tall trees and curved roads. I don't imagine flat tires or uphill sections, but such is the luxury of imagination =). Perhaps in January, or perhaps in the Autumn when it is cooler I can step out and feel it for real.
Perhaps I have been reading too much and this is a hunger for walking of the land as in Always coming home
or feeling the friendship, power and richness of old souls under my feet.
Quote of the Day - William Butler Yeats - "Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
For now I stretch my arms more than my legs and take the dogs for a walk.