When my children were small, Mr Penry and I often took them on long walks. It was something we'd both done as children with our own parents, and our own parents had done the same in their childhood. My childhood walks were usually beside the river, or sometimes in the woods and fields, Mr Penry usually walked up into the mountains.
What did we do on these walks? Often we talked, or we learned to make switches and hit the tops off nettles, and sometimes peeled bramble tips to eat when we were thirsty. Sometimes I went fishing for tiddlers and tadpoles, or picked flowers and berries for my father's hobby of home brewing.
Looking back, I realise that it probably wasn't easy for our parents to find the time to take us for walks. Both our fathers worked long hours, our mothers ran their homes without the benefit of any modern gadgets (which includes fridges and washing machines) and yet they would make time to spend hours with us.
There is something almost spiritual about a good walk. The rhythm makes us breathe in a certain way, and breathing is, after all, the basis of most types of meditation. We learned to be at one with the landscape too, because walking forces us to take our time, taking in the muddy paths with the firmer ones, and giving us chance to really 'see' what's around us.
And on a lighter note, I learned one of the great games of childhood. Sheep Sh*t Golf. All you need is a stick with a slight curve at the end, a pile of sheep's poo, and somebody (preferably unsuspecting) to aim at.....
Happy days........
2008-03-14 @ 11:42