had a night with some random awake-hours. and the morning found me... behind.
after i finally made myself get off the couch and get dressed, i had two little faces needing the same.
we (very)gradually accomplished all of this. i was again sitting. looking at the beautiful faces. school needed to start...
so we headed out the door. we needed to begin with a walk. some real air. some trees towering above. i couldn't find my usual- so we went out in search of whatever might find us. delightful.
we came back awake and ready. we pulled books from the shelf, read in bunk beds and did the work before us. a good day. a good walk.
as i sat eating dinner the other night, dining room chair pressed up against a bookshelf, i found Thoreau's "Walking" poking out at me. i pulled it out and, among other things, read this:
"I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks,...
He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all, but the saunterer, in the good sense, is not more vagrant than the meandering river which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea."
not sure i'm up to Thoreau's standards, but i'm pretty sure, the girl's got it down.