In Praise of a Winter’s Walk

Just me, some confused deer, and thoughts of hope

Photo by reza shayestehpour on Unsplash

I just got back from my second walk of the day, in the pouring rain. A mile and a half up and down our muddy, one-lane rural road. As I stepped out of our gate, a deer standing in the middle of the driveway turned and stared at me. She stood there a long moment as I walked toward her, as if not able to truly believe that one of the humans had come out in the rain. Don’t the woods belong to the deer, when the weather is nasty?

Eventually she remembered herself, and turned and darted away.

I walked on.

I take this walk most days, at least once a day. It’s called “the mailbox walk” because it ends at the main road where the dozen-or-so mailboxes for the houses back here are lined up on a post, but last spring I added an up-and-back on a side road. I did this to make the walk longer, and because sometimes I encounter the neighborhood’s resident stray peacock up there, plus a family of deer that includes a fawn with an adorable lopsided ear.

Lop, a month or two ago.

I take the mailbox walk even on non-mail days. I love walking; I love exercise, movement. In the pre-pandemic…