It was cold, but no wind, so the air would feel crisp. Lacing up my runners, I smile in anticipation of my bright blue, wool runner’s wrapped in Christmas paper and laying under the tree, but no cheating and opening early. Layers, Fitbit, water bottle and a card written for a friend to drop in her mailbox, which is part of my route.

I knew to wear gloves and a scarf for walking the lower streets that hadn’t seen the sun yet. A few months ago, I started making scarves and it’s something I’ve wanted to learn how to do for years. The first few have blemishes in them as I was going through the learning curve of how to load the loom and aren’t worthy of gift giving, but I wear them. Mistakes and all they still keep me warm.

Arriving at my friend’s street, I slip the card in her mailbox and continue walking to see her window drapes open, so I wave just in case she was standing within view.

Turning onto 2nd street, the first house on my right used to belong to my friend, Mrs. M, but now a retired gentleman lives there. He feeds the birds and has the coolest birdfeeders made of steel, which reveals how long ago they were made. I stop to stand in front of his yard where there’s a hedge of trees filled with Cardinals. They are waiting their turn for the feeder and then they swoop over to my backyard for water.

The school bus hasn’t arrived yet and there’s a young boy who’s learning to play the trumpet this year. He’s perched on the low, stone wall in front of Michael’s house on 3rd Street and as I walk through the intersection he’s just starting to play. He sees me and stops playing, so I keep walking, but pause behind a wooded area to listen. You can tell he’s in the beginning phases as the trumpet makes sputtering sounds, but he’s making the most of his time while waiting for the bus, so he won’t be a beginner for long.

An older gentleman, bundled up is walking toward me. He smiles and greets me as if I should know him, but I don’t. We exchange pleasantries and continue our paths.

Walking up the hill, I step onto my street as a neighbor drives by with a smile and wave. Stepping into my backyard I pat Denver dog on the head as we make our way into the house. It feels warm, cozy and inviting as I shed the scarf and gloves with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for getting to experience another morning of walking the Winter.