The quality of my day bears a direct correlation to the number of blocks I walk before 8 a.m. 20 or less is trouble. 40-60 is ideal. I used to claim it was for the dog, but that's not exactly true. I benefit as much as she does. It's not a particularly structured time. I don't use it to strategize or think. It's simply a time for walking and looking. On the best days, Sean comes with me, and whether we talk or just keep companionable silence, it's nice to have time together before chores and tasks come calling.
It's been perfect walking weather. The mornings are still reasonably light, though the skies have been heavy and grey. Fall leaves are at their last moment of glory. Colors are muted but saturated, with soft edges that make me think of smeared chalk. The cold is creeping in, just enough to make sweaters and scarfs welcome, and to make a hot cup of tea picked up along the way a permanent temptation. Some days, we go north, walking up through Riverside Park to the tennis courts near Grant's Tomb. Other days, we go south, walking the curve of Riverside Drive till we find Eleanor Roosevelt, bronzed and benevolent. Every so often, we head east and wander through the northern end of Central Park. There are enough blocks, streets, paths and shortcuts to create an endless permutation of ways to go, even though we never go very far. We find the variety in our little space.
I've been feeling a little stale lately, like I don't really have anything new to offer or say. But maybe I've been thinking about it the wrong way. Maybe the trick is finding new ways through familiar things.
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This Kenzo coat is outrageous, both price-wise and awesomeness-wise. I love it. (As ever, click through the image for links to all the items pictured.)
