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Walking around outside is good for me. Walking around outside on bright sunny days is especially good for me.
I was feeling down in the dumps this morning, for no particular reason--just reacting strongly to minor irritations and unhappiness. I finally put together a sandwich, got some clothes suitable for walking around outside (it's a few degrees below freezing, no big deal, but my apartment is warm enough that I tend to wear almost nothing when indoors), and did so.
It's gloriously blue outside, that fine color when the air is below freezing and the ground albedo is high, but warm enough to stop and look at the shining sky, instead of hurrying for shelter. The mallards are spending most of their time on the land.
I saw three kids (age ten or so, I'd guess) starting to climb down the slanted concrete wall of a narrow channel between two bridges. One of them saw me looking at them and said "Good afternoon, ma'am." By then I'd concluded that it was basically safe--even if they broke the ice, that channel is never more than a few inches deep, and had probably frozen clear through--so I smiled and said good afternoon, and wandered on. It may take a village, but part of what that involves is respecting other people and their capacity for judgment. Sure, they might have slipped and maybe bruised themselves, but that's no big deal. As I wandered along, they were starting to go hand-over-hand, hanging from a pipe that I think carries power and phone cables out to the Urban Ecology Center. They made it across with no mishaps; by then I was breaking random bits of ice and tossing them into the mostly-frozen inlet.
After that, I walked around the ballfield. That path is now entirely passable: some bits are narrow, but this time I didn't have to walk on ice. I did, a bit, just because it makes fine crunching noises when it breaks. I ran into Heather, who offered to make me a "walking tape"; I declined, because I prefer to focus on the park when I'm walking there, but it was a kind thought.
I was feeling down in the dumps this morning, for no particular reason--just reacting strongly to minor irritations and unhappiness. I finally put together a sandwich, got some clothes suitable for walking around outside (it's a few degrees below freezing, no big deal, but my apartment is warm enough that I tend to wear almost nothing when indoors), and did so.
It's gloriously blue outside, that fine color when the air is below freezing and the ground albedo is high, but warm enough to stop and look at the shining sky, instead of hurrying for shelter. The mallards are spending most of their time on the land.
I saw three kids (age ten or so, I'd guess) starting to climb down the slanted concrete wall of a narrow channel between two bridges. One of them saw me looking at them and said "Good afternoon, ma'am." By then I'd concluded that it was basically safe--even if they broke the ice, that channel is never more than a few inches deep, and had probably frozen clear through--so I smiled and said good afternoon, and wandered on. It may take a village, but part of what that involves is respecting other people and their capacity for judgment. Sure, they might have slipped and maybe bruised themselves, but that's no big deal. As I wandered along, they were starting to go hand-over-hand, hanging from a pipe that I think carries power and phone cables out to the Urban Ecology Center. They made it across with no mishaps; by then I was breaking random bits of ice and tossing them into the mostly-frozen inlet.
After that, I walked around the ballfield. That path is now entirely passable: some bits are narrow, but this time I didn't have to walk on ice. I did, a bit, just because it makes fine crunching noises when it breaks. I ran into Heather, who offered to make me a "walking tape"; I declined, because I prefer to focus on the park when I'm walking there, but it was a kind thought.
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