The Come-Back, Day 18. Taking a Walk
These days are typical of July. Last night, it was difficult to sleep, even with the windows open, because there was barely a breath of air until close to dawn. This morning I got up just after eight and went for my walk at twenty to nine.
As I started along the lane to the village, the air felt pleasant, with a touch of a warm breeze. I realized that it was too warm. If I had felt cold starting out the walk, it would have been better.
I rarely encounter anyone along the walk into the village. It's just the trees on one side, and the fields on the other. Last year, there was a horse that grazed where it wished, and once followed me. This year, the owner seems to have taken it somewhere else. There are also some sheep that are in either one field or another, but not today.
Approaching the village, I cross over the brook that has gone down in size. At the beginning of the month, it was swollen from the rain we'd gotten this spring. Now, it still rambles a bit high, but the volume is diminishing.
There is no one outside in the village until I encounter a neighbor with a staff that is setting out on his own walk. Past my in-law's house another neighbor is working on a house. We greet the usual, "good morning." Dogs are barking nonchalantly. Roosters add their voices to the morning. From a house, music trickles out. Someone has turned on a radio while they work. Further along, my husband's aunt stops me to chat while she goes out to the bread box to pick up the daily loaf of bread delivered earlier. What else are we going to talk about - the virus and the heat. She mentions that in the afternoon she stays inside, and that she doesn't like to go anywhere because the mask is over-powering. I break away and continue.
As I approach my house after having done the circuit of the village, I start to wonder if it would be a good idea to give up the rest of the walk. It's getting hotter. A small pebble crawls into one of my sneakers. I lean against my car to remove it and decide to continue.
I pass the carpentry on the left. It's a long building, a warehouse, really. It's run by the son of the carpenter who built it, around forty years ago. But it doesn't seem to have much custom of late. I don't know if the owner has anyone working for him or if he's alone.
As I continue, the sheep normally in a field aren't there, either. It's getting too hot, and I'm starting to feel it. I keep walking and come to a house in the middle of the woods, except it's on the road. It's surrounded by woods and its own, enchanted forest.
It's a normal house, built about forty years ago, still unpainted grey cement. It's owned by gardners who grow their own plants and flowers in greenhouses at the back of the property, and sell them at their store in a nearby town. Since last year, they've been doing reforms in the house, and at times there are workmen about. I don't know if the owners live there, because other than the moments there are workmen about, there is no other sign of life. Along the side of the road, below the house, years ago they planted seedlings to later uproot and sell; a myriad of different trees and bushes. Most of them weren't sold and grew in the spot, a tangled web of green leaves and the occasional camellia flower in season. This past January, a windstorm knocked down a couple of large trees in the middle of the property, and the enchantment has disappeared, as a large area was cleared out. Now, a couple of those trees have supports holding up what remains of them, and green shoots can be seen coming out. They're being given a new chance at magic.
I continue down the road, through delicious shade that still holds the freshness of the night because the sun hasn't yet hit the top of the hill to the left. I reach the beginning of the sidewalk and stop. I decide not to continue, and turn back. Below me lies the road filled with sun. It's already too hot for walking.
Coming back, the shade doesn't seem as fresh. I'm walking uphill. I pass the spot where I saw a boar in the underbrush last summer. Today, it's still. I pass a house with roses blooming blood red. I pass the enchanted forest and come to fruit trees, with a house down the hill. Last year, the plum trees had so many plums that most of the birds in the neighborhood were to be found there. I even took a couple from branches that grow out over the ditch. But this year, one tree has three or four yellow plums, still growing, and the other one has none.
Finally, I reach the curve and cross the road to my house. It wasn't the walk I wanted to take, but I was as hot and tired as if I had walked most of the morning. Tomorrow, I have to get up earlier; the heat will continue into the weekend.
Life continues.
As I started along the lane to the village, the air felt pleasant, with a touch of a warm breeze. I realized that it was too warm. If I had felt cold starting out the walk, it would have been better.
I rarely encounter anyone along the walk into the village. It's just the trees on one side, and the fields on the other. Last year, there was a horse that grazed where it wished, and once followed me. This year, the owner seems to have taken it somewhere else. There are also some sheep that are in either one field or another, but not today.
Approaching the village, I cross over the brook that has gone down in size. At the beginning of the month, it was swollen from the rain we'd gotten this spring. Now, it still rambles a bit high, but the volume is diminishing.
There is no one outside in the village until I encounter a neighbor with a staff that is setting out on his own walk. Past my in-law's house another neighbor is working on a house. We greet the usual, "good morning." Dogs are barking nonchalantly. Roosters add their voices to the morning. From a house, music trickles out. Someone has turned on a radio while they work. Further along, my husband's aunt stops me to chat while she goes out to the bread box to pick up the daily loaf of bread delivered earlier. What else are we going to talk about - the virus and the heat. She mentions that in the afternoon she stays inside, and that she doesn't like to go anywhere because the mask is over-powering. I break away and continue.
As I approach my house after having done the circuit of the village, I start to wonder if it would be a good idea to give up the rest of the walk. It's getting hotter. A small pebble crawls into one of my sneakers. I lean against my car to remove it and decide to continue.
I pass the carpentry on the left. It's a long building, a warehouse, really. It's run by the son of the carpenter who built it, around forty years ago. But it doesn't seem to have much custom of late. I don't know if the owner has anyone working for him or if he's alone.
As I continue, the sheep normally in a field aren't there, either. It's getting too hot, and I'm starting to feel it. I keep walking and come to a house in the middle of the woods, except it's on the road. It's surrounded by woods and its own, enchanted forest.
It's a normal house, built about forty years ago, still unpainted grey cement. It's owned by gardners who grow their own plants and flowers in greenhouses at the back of the property, and sell them at their store in a nearby town. Since last year, they've been doing reforms in the house, and at times there are workmen about. I don't know if the owners live there, because other than the moments there are workmen about, there is no other sign of life. Along the side of the road, below the house, years ago they planted seedlings to later uproot and sell; a myriad of different trees and bushes. Most of them weren't sold and grew in the spot, a tangled web of green leaves and the occasional camellia flower in season. This past January, a windstorm knocked down a couple of large trees in the middle of the property, and the enchantment has disappeared, as a large area was cleared out. Now, a couple of those trees have supports holding up what remains of them, and green shoots can be seen coming out. They're being given a new chance at magic.
I continue down the road, through delicious shade that still holds the freshness of the night because the sun hasn't yet hit the top of the hill to the left. I reach the beginning of the sidewalk and stop. I decide not to continue, and turn back. Below me lies the road filled with sun. It's already too hot for walking.
Coming back, the shade doesn't seem as fresh. I'm walking uphill. I pass the spot where I saw a boar in the underbrush last summer. Today, it's still. I pass a house with roses blooming blood red. I pass the enchanted forest and come to fruit trees, with a house down the hill. Last year, the plum trees had so many plums that most of the birds in the neighborhood were to be found there. I even took a couple from branches that grow out over the ditch. But this year, one tree has three or four yellow plums, still growing, and the other one has none.
Finally, I reach the curve and cross the road to my house. It wasn't the walk I wanted to take, but I was as hot and tired as if I had walked most of the morning. Tomorrow, I have to get up earlier; the heat will continue into the weekend.
Life continues.
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