My mum was not able to do vigorous exercise but she loved to walk, slowly, savouring the sights and sounds around her. When I was little, my Mum used to take me for a charming walk around the river Arle in our home town of Alresford. A stroll down Broad Street, past Lady Watts’ house and her beautiful cottage garden, down a steep hill to the river, the cool watery smell still takes me back. Narrow little walls for little feet to walk on between the watercress beds where hidden treasures of stickle-backs and tadpoles were collected in jam jars. The hunt for the first snowdrops involved balancing on a large metal pipe over the river to find them carpeting the grass. Every January is still a time to discover if the snowdrops are out, a legacy from Mum. Celandines also had a seasonal appearance with a particular spot to search for their shiny golden faces peeking up between last years dead leaves. Ducks were fed with stale bread, puddles explored wearing old wellies and trout marvelled over as they stayed still against the strong prevailing current. Walking slows you down and enables you to marvel at the little things, no wonder it has been a vital part of my life for as long as I can remember.
Heather's ramblings 