I walked with Alannah just before dark on a hazy evening the other day.  It's been a while and it almost felt strange.  Funny how such a short time out of your routine can change your life so much.  I am sure there are many implications there. 

When I was in the Netherlands as a teen they had a conviction that one should spend two hours a day outdoors.  At first glance that doesn't seem like much.  But when you consider your daily schedule, unless you are a farmer or bike to work, it rarely amounts to that. Sports practices help.  Walking helps. Still it is a challenge to swing that much time daily. 

There was an old man who lived in the farmhouse above and below. Very old. All last year he could be found sitting in the sun right under this window. From early spring until late into fall.  They put an umbrella up for him in the heat of summer.  One day as I came through the village we saw the ambulance and family out front.  He is gone now, but he spent his last days breathing in sunshine. The old farm wife is outside yet, puttering around the garden, feeding the chickens. Bustling. Her little harvest dries on the windowsill.  Her Tasha Tudor-esque profile and earnest hard work inspire me. 

I can date the eras in my life by my cookbooks. One of the early "Dayton cookbooks" is a vegan, Adventist, spiral bound church cookbook which I cannot remember having acquired. I rarely use it for cooking.  It's honestly not very good. But in the back there is a section called Nature's True Remedies prescribing Pure Air, Sunlight, Abstemiousness, Rest, Exercise, Proper Diet, Water.  

I am thinking again on those things this fall. 

Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.  - Walt Whitman

I am not at my best when I am not outside regularly. Why I fight it and hole up here in my nest I don't know.  Cold, perhaps. I am assembling scarves and tights and gloves and determining to step out that door daily once more, for more than errands.