I sat down today (it’s hot here) for my quiet hour, turned on the fan, and some music. I heard a voice in my head saying, “hey, get up off your butt and go for a walk with Zinnia.”

I don’t know where the voice came from or why it came today when a strong sun was beating down over the farm.

I either said it out loud without realizing it, or Zinnia and I had become telepathic, but she jumped up and ran to the door, tail walking.

She loves to go on walks.

We used to do it all the time, but life intervened. Before photography, walking was my passion and personal joy. Then came my heart trouble and I thought I might never take a walk again.

After that, I had that food injury, was wearing a surgical boot for months, and couldn’t go for walks. Then I started going to the gym, and summer came, and it was too hot for Zinnia or me to walk in mid-day.

And to be honest, sometimes my feet hurt. And the bug bites caused problems with my diabetes.

I’ve been going to the gym several times a week and been busy day after day for what seems like months, and then the zillions of bugs and the heat warnings came, and I just got out of the habit.

Gyms are accessible and air-conditioned. When I go to the gym, I often feel sore and tired, but it hit me today that I hadn’t walked in a couple of months, except around the farm. But I was getting plenty of exercises. It seemed a cheat, somehow.

Today was a warm day, and my heart medicines don’t love the intense sun, I’m not supposed to walk around in the extreme heat.  I go out early and after dusk to water the plants.

But Zinnia was game, and we both jumped into my hot car and drove to our favorite country road, just down the highway in front of the house.

Zinnia was panting heavily, and her tongue was hanging down; she is a cold-weather creature and has the same trouble with the sun that I do.

But she was game, and so was I.

I brought my Leica 2, my oldest walking stick, and went charging up the hill. Just before my open heart surgery in 2014, I suddenly couldn’t make it up this hill without stopping several times, and my angina made the walk painful.

I give thanks every time I walk up this hill, I know I am stronger than ever.

 

I had no trouble sailing up to the top and beyond, sweating but not breathing heavily, no angina or gasping for breath.

My heart is solid; I can feel it. We made it over the top of the hill and into some shade. The heat was getting to both of us. Walking down the hill would be easier.

Maria told me it was too hot for her to walk today, and I should have paid attention. But we did all right, Zinnia and I. Halfway down, I saw a bunny sitting in the road; he seemed not to notice us.

I thought Zinnia seemed not to want to notice him either. Perhaps it was too close to chasing a rabbit; Zinnia is not a warrior dog like Bud. She just looked the other way.

When we got a few feet away, the bunny glanced over at Zinnia, came to his senses, and jumped into the brush.

Zinnia was not interested and just kept going. She was worn out, and so was I.

But I was glad we went. It felt great to walk up that hill in the heat so quickly and without rest; it was good to remember those complex and difficult days.

It is beautiful to take a walk with a dog like Zinnia, who is happy to stay by my side and sit when a car comes down the road. I am nothing but lucky and glad to be back walking again.

There is nothing like walking, the quiet, the beauty, the breeze, the hawks overhead, the rabbits darting around, and an occasional shocked deer popping into the road.

No computers or cellphones, no messages or news (Maria did call to remind me that it was hot outside).

It is such a wonderful place to think.

When Fall comes, I’ll head out every morning. Life is a wheel, it just keeps turning around.