Winter walking

It was near noon.  I was sitting in a dark room -- dark at mid day  -- staring out the window at a light but steady rain.  With a cat on my lap. 

The Rule of of Feline Ownership is, of course, that -- barring a threat of imminent injury (to the cat, not to the human) --one does not move until the cat himself chooses to move.  For amusement, I had at hand my Kindle and I had my iPhone.  I grew weary of reading, so I took the photo.

Well, I can't sit here all day, I remarked to my immobile cat.  Time for a walk.  In the rain.  To clear my mind and quicken my heartbeat.  My cat rolled his eyes.

I have two basic walking routes, each of which has a few minor variations.  By some odd coincidence, the half way point on both routes happens to be a Starbucks.  I order ahead while en route, and am often greeted by name when I arrive.  But not today.  Today, I decided to reactivate a route I used to follow frequently, back in the early days of the pandemic when half the challenge of my hike was anticipating and avoiding coming within six feet of other walkers.  

But it's  good route.  A little shorter than my others, but since I hadn't done it for a while, it seemed longer.  Up onto Capitol Hill, as far south as Roy Street, back to Volunteer Park, a loop around the south and west portions of the Park, down past Seattle Prep, and then through the length of long, skinny Interlaken Park. back to my own neighborhood.  About four miles total.

It had stopped raining.  But it was still drippy under the trees.  And I'm a Northwesterner.  I love sunshine, sure.  But I experience a certain exhilaration walking in the rain.  Unless the rain's actually a downpour being driven by a strong wind into my face.  It's still mid-February, but plants were in the early stages of their spring growth.  Some early-budding trees had buds.  A few flowers were popping out -- even a few early-blooming rhododendrons.  Birds were in full activity, busy about their business.  

I approve of nature, and nature, in turn, always obligingly cheers me up.

My route took me through neighborhoods filled with large, old houses, many dating back to the early days of Seattle.  Houses with odd shapes, large bay windows, towers, impressive balconies, three or four stories in height.  Square feet sufficient to room several families,  but that don't.  

I've read protests in the local paper about Home Sections that feature architecturally interesting houses, the kind of houses I saw while walking today, houses that are obviously far beyond my ability to ever purchase.  Readers protest that reading these features, looking at their size and their beautiful architectural details -- and at scenes of apparently happy, upper middle class families enjoying their good fortune -- just infuriates them, makes them angry and depressed.  I infer that they would love to drag these happy families out onto the street, and force them to live in cheap rentals like everyone else.

Not me.  I like reading about huge old houses, and studying them as I walk by.  I enjoy them for the same reason that I love visiting (or just reading about) castles and chateaux in Europe.  It's fun to walk past Buckingham Palace in London.  I'm not enraged that the Royal Family lives inside; if anything, I fantasize about living there myself.  

I never felt the urge to drag the Queen out and make her cook her own meals like everyone else.

But these are all topics for another day.  Today, let me just say that walking -- even walking in the rain -- maybe even especially walking in a light rain -- raises my spirits.  It helps me think clearly.  My daydreams while walking give me ideas for future travel.

Walking in a light drizzle even gives me the gumption to come home and remind the cats who's boss.  Oh.  Well, now I'm exaggerating.