Posts tagged walking
Those Meandering Days

One late November morning though, the great grandfather clock in the hallway intruded on my sleep and woke me up as the sun was rising. I climbed out of bed, tentively padded across the room and drew open my curtains. Perched on top of a valley, my bedroom overlooked the fields and villages beyond. It was one of those perfect early winter mornings. The ground was covered with a heavy, glistening frost and the sky appeared as though it had been blended with pastels under a veil of calm water. A rosy hue had settled and engulfed everything as far as my eye could see. I opened the window and was suddenly struck by the cold air. It expanded in my chest as I breathed it in, invigorating me and wrenching me out of my sleep induced state. I knew in that second that I had to be out there and be a part of it.

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A Perfectly Portioned Autumn

It’s that time of year again, my favourite time when the smell of autumn lingers in the air and everything feels new and possible. Every year I have such high hopes for autumn. I promise myself that I shall be out revelling in it as much as possible. I imagine the long walks in my favourite knitwear, my ochre scarf wrapped around my neck as I kick up leaves in my walking boots. But for me, autumn always comes with a side serving of trepidation and fear. Because autumn is as much about food as it is about being outdoors. It’s the season of harvest and abundance, tempting me with big roast dinners, warming stews and wholesome soups. I love to plan walks where I know there's a cafe so I can sit and enjoy my cake and coffee as the light fades around me. For me, autumn gives with one hand and cruelly takes with another. 

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When the Skylark Sings

As my heart filled with the sights and sounds of the world awakening around me, I drove further. I ventured out to the north of Perthshire, following old bridle paths and nature trails. I took off my navy jumper, tied it around my shoulders, exposing the skin of my arms and and the gentle folds of my stomache through my colourful breton top. I was happy. I was fulfilled. I felt as though I was seeing the world for the first time with the eyes of someone who had lived as a silhouette for far too long. As I climbed over gates, and searched for paths, I felt the weight of my worries lift from me. It was springtime and I overwhelmingly pleased to see it.

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