᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ The Long Way Round

Today, I walked into Painswick. After days of climbing hills, navigating muddy paths, passing through countless gates, and following the little acorn markers of the Cotswold Way, I entered the village that had lived in my imagination for almost a year. The moment I saw it, I felt something shift. You might think it was excitement , but it was really more of a deep recognition. If you've read Apricity, you'll understand. Painswick is not merely the setting of the novella. It i

There are a great many gates on the Cotswold Way. Some are wooden, some are metal. Some swing open easily, some require a bit of negotiation. The mechanisms differ, meaning that I'm often thankful I have a brain that can figure things out with a degree in engineering. And there are a few that aren't really gates at all. They are obstacles disguised as access. About two and a half miles into today's ten-mile route, I realized I was completely alone. The first miles had been al

Yesterday, the Cotswold Way felt like a gift. Today felt more like someone had presented me with a challenge. It wasn't a difficult walk, exactly. (Well, it was 13 miles and 2500 feet of elevation gain. But, I digress...) It was more as if the path had decided to ask me a series of questions. Today there were no butterflies. No benches. I only passed five people. There were steep climbs, muddy slopes, on-and-off drizzle, slippery moss-covered loose stones, stinging nettles, a

Today, I walked through part of the Cotswolds, from Chipping Campden to Broadway. Or perhaps that isn’t quite right... Today, I wandered through a world that felt impossible. There were butterflies and tall grasses and lambs beside their mothers. Ivy climbed ancient stone walls. Valleys opened below me, patchworked with farms and trees. Wildflowers lined the path in colors I couldn’t have imagined if I hadn’t seen them myself: purple flowers, pink flowers with white centers,

There are places that feel like locations, and there are places that feel like people. Oxford, for me, has always been the latter. I visited for the first time ten years ago with my parents, sister, and kids. My daughter was enthralled by the idea of Oxford University. I have a photo of her outside of Magdalen College, and I don't think she's ever looked happier. Then Rick and I returned earlier this year. It was a brief encounter, interrupted before it was finished. I left

Today we're taking the dogs to a beautiful Belgian town called Mechelen. (That's me with Miche, one of the lucky dogs who gets to go, just above.) I've been there once before, so I already know one little thing I'll love about it. The cobblestones. Not because they're picturesque, although they are. Not because they photograph well, although they do. I love them because they have been walked on by thousands of feet for hundreds of years. Merchants. Children. Widows. Priests.

A few days from now, I'll board a train for London. From there, I'll make my way to Oxford, then onto the Cotswold Way for a ten-day solo walk. I'll be walking alone through villages, fields, churchyards, and old paths before ending in Bath. I'll even have lunch in Painswick! (If you've read Apricity, you know.) The timing feels strangely fitting. The summer solstice is approaching, and although I have no plans to visit Stonehenge itself, I'll be walking through a landscape t