Fresh Air

I love going for walks.

fall-walkNo matter the weather, I don my runners and make my way around the block. If I can swing it, the best time for me to get out is in the morning. On the days I’m not working, I get the kids off to school and continue on my way around the neighbourhood. When I cannot make a morning walk, early evening is just as good.

It does something to me. For me. For my state of mind. Although my walks are usually less than half an hour, it does something to my psyche. It clears my mind, puts things in perspective and allows me to think about the day and week ahead. It’s like the first, clean page of a new notebook. It prepares me for anything.

I love tgorgehe sights. In the fall the beautiful colours on the trees are mesmerizing. The neighbourhood I walk through is an older one with lovely brick bungalows and manicured lawns.

I love the sounds. The birds singing and the leaves rustling in the wind calm me and help me to put things in perspective. In the winter, I concentrate on the sounds my boots make, crunching the snow under my feet. On the days that have me walking in the evening, I can hear the sounds of kids playing or the crack of a baseball bat and shouts of encouragement at the baseball field.

I love the smells. During the summer, the mix of freshly cut grass and BBQ mingle. On cool days, the air gets filled with burning wood and embers from wood stoves and fireplaces that somehow take the chill out of the air. Although it seems ironic, I don’t think I could ever live in the country. It’s too quiet for me, too isolated, too far apart from everything. While I don’t live in a huge metropolis, I love my little city and its little neighbourhood where every house and corner is unique. But it’s the fresh air that I love so much. It makes me feel alive and that I can conquer anything.

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  • About Me
      Thanks for stopping by! I’m Christine, a mom to a million dollar family (yup, an older son and a younger daughter), a wife of almost 20 years (egads!) and the oldest of four girls growing up in a European family (my dad was a lucky guy having all that estrogen floating around the house).
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