Well it would perhaps be better labeled if I said my first slow climb up the hill and leisurely meander down on the other side. If my lung and heart are in fine shape thanks to finally having been able to walk up to coffee in my village mornings for the past month or so, the same can’t be said of my arm/leg coordination nor of my legs period.
Still I was mighty pleased that I could do it without stopping – o.k. once to stand still and listen to the silence around me: silence only broken by the twitter of birds and the wind in the trees – and another time to pick up a rock or two. Said rocks got carried a ways, then I decided that they didn’t possess enough energy and left them on the side of the road. After all I can’t haul back a rock for every walk that I take, as it is I have plenty dotting the spaces where I live.
It was a gorgeous day, Saturday, but no real wildflowers out and the plain at the top held no sheep nor cows, nor even a yak as it did one year. I was chuffed though to find some wild baby spinach where Marcel had shown me all those years ago and happily added a few leaves to my salad at lunch.
My season has started – I am back – and one of my favorite mountains (Les Dents de Morcles) watch over me through my kitchen window.