After lunch yesterday, I took Pippa for a walk. Often we go mid-morning, but I couldn’t get moving that day. She was good about it, but I knew she missed her outing.
Once we were out the front door the sunny, mild, crisp weather drew us to our chosen spot. A small treed green space that separates opposing back-yards, where the grass is trim and the few flowers are wild.
Earlier in the day many people workout here. An elderly couple from Belarus walks together. She totters along, covered even when it’s warm. He works out in shorts, adding exercises in with his steps. Another lady walks up and down the route, four times each direction, listening to an audiobook. Sometimes kids are running to school on the East end. Most days a neighbor comes with us, and we talk while wearing our masks.
Now the solitude touched my essence, a sanctuary all to myself. To preserve the moment, I clicked pictures with my phone. No squirrels or rabbits were scampering around. They prefer dawn or dusk. But my favorite gnarled redbud stood steady between the fork in the trail.
At the sidewalk’s end, we turned and retraced our steps. Pippa had more scents to explore. And I discovered details I missed.
I snapped another photo of the old knobby-trunk tree. The twisted limbs and rough wood appearing original to me.
Pippa and I have walked this green space twice a day for three years. Each time is like an unfamiliar experience for us.