Slowly the village awakes.
The best time of any Sunday is the early morning. Hardly a soul's astir and it is a real treat to go for a walk in such solitude. Well, not quite as there are some like minded people about.
After eight, despite sounding like an after dinner treat, sees life returning after a Saturday night. Walking along the street I can't help but hear the water swirling its merry way down the drain. Seriously, walking past those man-hole covers outside each house, one can hear either the flushing of a lavatory, the constant tingling of a shower or the gurgling of the washing machine's cycle.
Today I saw a man setting off to ride his bicycle but not before I had safely gone past his house. Did he think I would break in or something? Yikes, and to top it all he did a round of spitting and ugly gurgling as only a smoker can do at the start of any exercise. Far from attractive and doesn't he realize how sound carries on a clear day?
A bit further along the top of Eisenberg I heard the swish of our approaching security car ( yes, can you believe it? ) a swish that only an electric car could make...I know who my money would be on in case of a car chase!!!
The kaleidoscopic coat most vines are sporting at the moment is breathtakingly beautiful and if one had a storage tank for happiness and contentment, today would have filled this tank to excess. If only people would realize how magical, healing and relaxing a walk can be, they would cease to think of me as the mad walker and start to do the same.
Biggi
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