On a crisp winter's day, with leaves crunching underfoot, a cold wind at the back of my neck, the sun filtering through the trees and the wagging tail of my friend's dog in front of me, I couldn't be happier.
Walking in the countryside is more than just a form of exercise for me. I get to de-stress. My shoulders relax because I tend to hunch them when I write (I know, bad habit). I get the chance to fill my lungs and let the smells that come in remind me of things - wet earth, a log fire (not in the woods... on the air from someone's home bordering the woods!), cows, fresh grass.
I prefer to walk on my own because it gives me a chance to get inside my head, to feel nature, and sometimes just to let myself get into the trance of my steps and the rhythm of my breath. Its 'zone' out time.I can spend hours walking and singing (to the dog and myself).
On one of the walks I do, there is the most amazing abandoned staircase. It just sits in the middle of the forest leading nowhere. Its sweeping concrete banisters take you down the steps to the forest floor below.
Local legend is that it once was part of the old house belonging to some aristocrat. I can imagine horse carriages pulling up in front of it for lavish parties. He destroyed the house in a fit of rage when he couldn't get planning permission to build on his land. The stairs are all that's left of the once magnificent estate.
It's something I always walk up and down when I pass.
I'm heading out that way tomorrow morning...
Gabi
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