Yesterday our Matrix was in the car shop getting maintenance. Somehow in the thick of things, we added a few more things for the garage to do, and so I was without a car for a little longer than I thought.
The result was walking. About twenty-five blocks. Luckily, there wasn't too much rain. What usually takes about eight minutes to drive takes fifty walking. Since I wasn't being pampered by automotive technology, I had to purchase sustaining chocolate donuts to nibble on every three blocks.
Walking that distance reminded me of my Grandma Agnes. She was a farmstead girl in 1920, and she walked to school along an lumberjack trail and through a pasture holding a bull. I wonder what sort of thoughts went through her head as she walked--I imagine she had conversations with her dog, Sport, or any animals she might have encountered.
When I was walking the city blocks of southern Eugene, I was thinking about the various yard plantings and garden features (OK, and the next donut). It's easy to imagine stories attached to the differing houses. Why do those folks have a fancy gate across their driveway, and do the stars and moons mean anything? Is that a haunted house and what happened to the owners? In contrast, when I'm driving, I'm listening to the radio and imagining what on earth could be motivating the driver in front of me to be driving they way that they are.
Well... speedily arriving somewhere or exercising one's imagination. To quote the Baker's Wife from "Into the Woods," why can't it be both? With chocolate.
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