Survival in Tough Times: It’s good to start the day with a peaceful morning cup and a quick march around a quiet little burg in the Heartland;
Tranquility seems to be harder to come by these days. Ever since we entered the modern era in, when was it, 1945?1920? 1893? 1750? it seems the pace of life has quickened almost daily since. We hurry faster and faster, write fewer things down, move from state to state more often, and find ourselves having to do breathing exercises to settle into sleep. It’s these times that are to blame.
In the middle of all this haste there is more need than ever to treasure peace and quiet. Being morning people helps. When my day begins it is always still dark, no matter the season. That’s good because there are very few people up and about before light where I live. It’s the time for morning tea and morning coffee. For more than half the year the windows can be open during this morning ritual when we talk quietly or amuse ourselves with a video of the previous day’s news. As the light begins to spill out along our meridian at 86° West longitude, it’s the time to listen for the morning chorus of woodland birds, some of which we hear but never see. It’s a reminder that there are other morning creatures about. Sometimes the cat that came with our house when we bought it will be curled up on the mat in front of the door. A lingering owl may make a few last sleepy hoots before retiring for the day. Morning is a great time.
Along with advancing age sometimes comes a realization that maybe there are reasons that compel us to deliberately do healthy things. Exercise falls into that category. We’ve heard about the aerobic stuff and the need to move. Yada, yada. They tell us that we need to do this moving every day or nearly so, but who thinks that’s fun? Don’t I get enough moving done during the day what with the mowing and the firewood and the garden and the maintenance and my other jobs? Not enough, they say, and a peek at the scale every day reminds me after a few weeks that maybe they’re right. But what to do?
Well, walking seems to meet many of the requirements, so a year ago or more we got a compact treadmill. It worked great. . . for a while. Since only one of us could be on it at a time, it was easy to say to myself, ‘well, when she gets done I’ll get on there.’ The corollary to that, of course, is ‘and if she doesn’t get on it, then I’m off the hook.’ There was always something that needed to be done and always time to get to the treadmill later because it was always ready. Right. So that didn’t really work that well. Neither did the rowing machine for similar reasons.
How to walk at the same time? The landscape where we live is rather reminiscent of Dogpatch, with steep hills and hollows and curvy roads running through it. There is a great hill in our driveway that is guaranteed to deliver an aerobic workout every time I ascend it, but when I first start climbing it there are two required stops on the way up. After a week there’s only one required break, but by that time my spirits have flagged so badly that I quit doing it and I don’t care who knows about it.
Over the past few years I’ve gradually begun to explore side roads and byways in my area. There are some pretty flat spots here and there with some small towns sprinkled across the landscape, too. After visiting one of these towns many times it occurred to me that maybe it would work to walk there. We decided to try it.
It has now become a thoroughly enjoyable start to our mornings. So far only a steady rain or exhaustion from other causes has kept us from getting in our daily measured mile.
It’s a pleasant drive over there, often done just as it’s getting light this time of year and we have to be alert to deer crossing the road. We’ve seen our share of owls on the wing, raccoons headed home after a night of gleaning along wet ditches and ponds, and raucous crows.
Our little burg is ever so quiet. We alight in soft shoes and begin our trek up a slight grade to what most people wouldn’t even call a hill, but it’s the high point of the one mile loop we will walk this morning. There on the corner is a fragrant pile of cedar chips and across the road stands a juniper in Prussian green with thousands of tiny sky blue berries on it. On Sunday morning as we neared the top of the rise a large bird crossed our field of vision just above treetop level, flying in earnest. He sped by and at the last moment swooped powerfully upward another 50 or 75 feet higher to land gracefully atop the town’s spherical blue water tower. Our greeter and sentinel is a bald eagle, fresh off the area’s coal mine ponds. He settles at the very apex of the tower, fluffs himself, and has a look around as we look at each other and stare back at him. He takes it all in, naturally comfortable at the top of the world. We smile, turn, and keep walking.
After the next turn our view is the photo above. It’s very gradually down hill now. Our sweatshirts feel good in the cool air. We can pick up the pace a bit because we know we won’t get hot. It’s too early for that. At one house sometimes there is someone sitting on the back porch with her coffee. She waves. We wave back. We walk quietly trying not to rouse the two small dogs that live there. There are pecan trees to notice and a clump of black locust and sugar maples. We avoid the walnuts that stain the roadway.
Sometimes a car will come by but they swing wide to give us lots of room and we drop into single file before waving at them as they go by. They wave back. People on their porches wave at us. We wave back. A very debonair rooster and his speckled lady friend are next on our journey. If they have been let out of their compound for the day we may see them picking bird seed off the ground under the bird feeders. If still fastened in they will usually be on their day roost waiting to be released to a day of foraging. The white and gold rooster will usually cut loose with a cheery greeting when we spot him. He can be heard across more than half the little town. We continue past the white church building and back along the country road for a bit before turning back toward where we parked. Someone has a home made figure of Wilson from Home Improvement peeking over the backyard fence. We always greet him, too, but he says nothing because he’s made of wood. We walk past the residences of more small dogs but usually don’t wake them. There is a buckeye tree and a holly tree as we near the end of our walk. On weekdays people are beginning to arrive at the post office. It has been peaceful and quiet the entire time.
It is quiet on the way home, too, but there is a feeling of accomplishment, of compliance with the lifestyle gurus. I guess they have a point and maybe now they’ll leave us alone until tomorrow morning. The endorphins have begun to kick in and we feel good about our ritual walk. It’s good to start the day with a peaceful morning cup and a quick march around a quiet little burg in the Heartland.
Email Us | Reader Friendly | Comments
