Happy Feet

I'm walking again, walking distances over a few feet here and there, and it feels good to be out in the morning stretching my legs and just walking. I need to walk.  A few weeks of abbreviated walks have only proven that stretching alone is not enough.  Movement is the key.

These first two days of walking have not been auspicious, weather-wise.  Or have they?  This morning there was a constant light mist.  I wore a raincoat, in case the mist turned to something wetter, but it did not.  Only my glasses became smudged with layers of dampness, but the walk itself was nice, and ended with a cuddle as I wrapped Tikka up in a big towel for a bit of drying and fluffing time.

Yesterday at dawn the sky was heavy with fog.  Though we left slightly before sunrise, the presence of the sun could only be discerned through a subtle variation in the light.  And then, if you are lucky, you are out in the fog at that perfect moment when the light and the fog begin to shift, and there is a brief liminal moment when the world is neither dark nor light, almost as if the world is neither here nor there. For a fleeting moment the concreteness of everything you know seems called into question.  Even the leaves of the holly bush appear soft and caressing.  Then, poof!  The moment is gone, and the world returns to normal.