Most days these days I just want to walk. In these days of the springtime. When all of nature around me feels and sounds so new, and the leaves are a green that only happens in these days of April approaching May. I love all the seasons, but if I could stop the clocks, just for a while, right now in this one, I would.
The walk in the pictures is Lost Liverpool. Not an official name but I’ve called this walk that for so long it might as well be. Out through Calderstones and Allerton to Woolton. Up Camp Hill and down the other side, through graveyards and more ancient lanes that never became roads, back home.
Some of the walk is through the ruins of houses with bleak histories I’ve told before (just search “Lost Liverpool” in the archive of here). But I’m not telling those stories today. I’m just walking. Because you never know, none of us ever know, how many more springtimes we’ll get.
To just walk through the beauty of all this.
I may be over the other side of the world, and in a different time zone, but this still resonates.
Ronnie, for lots of reasons, I feel exactly the same. I just want to walk (gently now, (no 10 mile mountainhikes),and be. The bluebells are out. The May blossom is about to bloom, right on time for its named month, as it should be, as it has since I was tiny and picked it off the hawthorn bushes to take home to Mum and put in tiny vases. So glad you're still writing sometimes, but on your own terms. And I will always be up for reading tales of the allotment - which I always think of as a miniature form of everyday optimisticplacemaking, as well as a great place for a cup of tea. and a few chapters of your current book.