Walking...

Being home in Vermont, I return to the routine of daily walks around the mountain without thinking about it. It's part of the groove I fit into when I am here. Now that I don't have to rush off to a job, I start the day with a walk before breakfast. I take the oversized golf umbrella and put on rubber boots as I tramp along the muddy roads in the early spring curious to see what is out there. Early summer mornings when I can head out the door in shorts and walking shoes are the best. By fall, I'm ready to grab a fleece and pick up the pace as the cool mornings energize me. Then by winter I don't think anything of bundling up in long underwear, parka, scarf, hat, gloves and snow boots to set out on a frigid morning. It's just part of starting each day.

Would I have become an avid walker if we hadn't bought a house on a quiet dirt road in the Green Mountains of Vermont 20 years ago? I haven't examined that idea before, but maybe not. Sparrow Hawk Road has been home for twenty years, although more than half that time I've lived other places. Perhaps the habit became ingrained during the summers here.

I remember going from Rochester to Manila, Philippines, where we were to live for two years. Within a few days we had moved into a large house provided by the international school. Once our few things were unpacked I couldn't wait to explore the neighborhood and take my usual walk for exercise and because I wanted to see what was around me. I made it to the corner only to find myself turning back to the house dripping in sweat. Discovering that I had no tolerance for the tropical Asian heat and humidity, I was suddenly horrified that I would not be able to take a regular walk. How would I survive? I came up with an alternative when I found the elegant Mandarin Oriental Hotel a block away with a large swimming pool that was empty on week day afternoons. If I could not walk for exercise I'd have to become a swimmer, which I did.

Leaving steamy Manila to live in Vermont for five years was a welcome change because I could go back to my habit of country walks. By the time I left Vermont again to live during the week in New Hampshire, walking was as necessary as breathing. Then, it was off to Dubai for two years. Views of the gorgeous Arabian sea and white sand beaches beckoned but of course, not for the fair skinned like me. I had once been a swimmer and lap swimming was what I'd do again for two years except for occasional walks on the beach during the month or two of cooler weather in the Middle Eastern winter.

Having just returned from a month in Buenos Aires I think about the miles of walking I did every day. It was easy because the walking habit is ingrained in me. Each day I'd plan where we would go, take the city map, and set out with the idea that if it was too far to walk we'd get a taxi. We never did opt for the taxi. Granted, the Buenos Aires traffic and especially the exhaust from buses that rush down the avenues make walking a different experience from my country roads. But walking provided a close up view of everyday life and led to discovering the restaurant El Callao, that we returned to at least three times and the small leather shop with the reasonable prices tucked away on a block of Calle Arenales. Walking Buenos Aires gave me an appreciation of what a well planned city it is. Walking the city blocks I would pass people on the street and delight in understanding their conversations. On foot, I felt more connected to the daily life of Argentines and the bonus was all that exercise.

The truth is that I miss walking in Buenos Aires where you can combine an errand, shopping, a visit to a museum, a meal at a restaurant, or take in movie without ever getting in the car. Instead, I am back to walking the hills and country road I live on as I have been doing for many years. The piles of snow are almost gone and as I look for signs of spring -a few robins , a deer in the meadow, and moose tracks on the muddy road. A member of the fox family is back in the neighborhood and I'm on the lookout for the wild turkeys who mate this time of year. The marsh marigolds that only appear in the early spring are coming up down in the spot where they've been for the past twenty years and probably longer. There is something reassuring about walking in the spring in Vermont. I like to think that this is where I learned to appreciate the art of walking while noticing all that is around me.