It Beats Rush Hour

There are times when my commute to or from work feels like a magical moment of my day. I walk to the end of my cul-de-sac to find a short, wooded path that curves round an old stone wall. Often, I step along that wall as a kind of short cut rather than descend the hill--it makes me feel young to walk the ledge. Even with my shoulder bag, I can grab onto the adjacent chain link fence to keep myself from falling. It's on this nature walk each morning or afternoon that I catch a glimpse of the morning sky or drench my shoes in the dewy grass (the main reason I wear galoshes). I've collected fallen leaves the size of elephant ears and greeted the first sign of daffodils. Today, I thought my snowy steps would crunch up and down, up and down, adding several minutes to my journey as a winter storm has been known to do. Instead, I found a surface as smooth as any ice rink. No blades were necessary, but the flat soles of my boots allowed me to glide one step at a time in both directions. I may as well have laced my skates up and taken long, confident strides the whole way across.