I walked in the cold overcast afternoon.
Maybe it is because I have enjoyed reading so many books set in English villages where the town's hub is a square with several up and down lanes branching off from the main street, a street that accommodates quaint shops for the needs of any village- abiding person. I love the thought of living in such a place. I recall a woman friend telling me how she lived in a small town in Connecticut with her husband well over forty years ago; they owned only one car and she was able to walk to the grocer, pharmacy, florist, or any place she needed to outside venturing into the larger city. And I also have vague memories of my Grandmother walking to a street of shops near her house in the old part of the town of which I grew up that maintained such a street of shops within walking distance of the residents going back to the 1940's.
As for this afternoon, my mind's ruminations were due to not getting into my car and driving the few miles to the host's house where our monthly bridge meeting was being held. Instead I bundled up in my aubergine woolen coat and with my Stegmanns wool clogs , I briskly made the twelve minute journey. And speaking of Stegmann's clogs, I bought this pair of clogs in 1992, and they are still in excellent shape. I slip my socked feet into them and my feet remain toasty warm, plus the comfort they provide is almost like wearing slippers.
After another twelve minute walk home, I hurriedly began supper preparations. For tonight I was preparing my own version of Swedish meatballs to be served over tagliatelle noodles, so for that I needed to gather a few springs of fresh parsley from my leaf-strewn garden. A crisp green salad served on the side should be just right.
