The Fields are Drying

It's well past time to get back into my walking routine.

That tripe they feed you about all it taking to form a lifelong routine is to do it daily for three weeks? Bullshit. I kept pretty well to my walking routine for two years! But . . . have been slacking since beginning to work at the news office a year-and-a-half ago.

Even with good company, which I had for the first while (poor Alison, freezing out there without ski pants — no wonder your feet were flying!), there is little pleasure to be had in walking around town. I've been spoiled by a grid road, no neighbours, and negligible traffic; by sightings of deer, fox, coyote, raccoon, badger, hawks, eagles, herons, and so forth; by wildflowers blooming in the ditches.

Even so, I've been lazy for the past year and it's time to smarten up. So I went walking — briskly — 45 minutes — on Monday and Tuesday.

It was cold; I wore leggings under my jeans, a warm spring jacket, a wool scarf, a knitted headband, a felty hat, and gloves. Oh sure, in typical Saskatchewan style everything periodically had to be unzipped, zipped up again, loosened, tightened, removed, put back on — all depending upon which way the wind was blowing.

This is one of the family fields, draining into the ditch by the road. 

For part of my walk, a small flock of skinny robins flitted along in the trees beside me. It's not difficult to imagine they are having trouble finding food, although several black ants have appeared on the kitchen counter in the past couple days and Scott says that means the ground is thawing. One of our news correspondents remarked that a warm rain is needed to bring the earthworms out. I hope it's soon; I'm worried about those robins.

On Tuesday morning, residents of a town not far away awoke to an inch of snow on the ground.