Cheerful Walks and Hikes 

For a long time, I enjoyed taking neighborhood strolls without shoes. I miss a neighborhood where we lived, with smooth sidewalks and soft grassy areas. I could walk a half-mile or more with no discomfort. In our previous neighborhood, such walking was a little challenging, because the sidewalks were more sporadic and I’d have to stroll in the street; I’d have to get used to the rougher texture.

A down-the-street neighbor was the parent of two or three boys. Sometimes I’d see her walking barefoot down the sidewalk and around our cul-de-sac, talking on her cell phone. She was obviously getting some quiet time for herself.

We don’t have a dog, but if we did, I’d use dog-walking as an excuse to enjoy the outdoors through my feet. I can think of several such folks that we’ve known—like our acquaintance who walked her buddy down the sidewalk in the late afternoon to get his business done. She still wore her nice work outfit but had removed her shoes. “I love going barefoot!” she said.

In addition to neighborhood walks, I’ve loved longer hikes, like two favorite nature trails where, on two or three occasions, I walked along the grassy and dirt paths. I’d taken the trails before in walking shoes, so I knew the terrain and felt okay about bringing no shoes or sandals.

One of the trails alternated for two miles between pretty timber and open meadows, and included a few small hills to climb, plus the trail offered the comforting, nostalgic sight of an old barn as the path curved around and back into timber. A small bridge forded a stream that was sadly polluted, a shade of bright orange. But there was also a green pond where frogs croaked and turtles peaked above the surface.

I walked for perhaps an hour through this beautiful countryside. I watched my strolling toes, kept an eye out for stones on the trail, and on slopes I was aware of my toes digging into the soft earth for traction. How pleasant to go on a long hike completely barefooted! On a stretch of damp soil I noticed behind me that my heels made small dents in the earth, a modest footprint on the land.

Another trail was about a mile, and the path was mostly mulch, which crunched as I walked but “gave” enough to feel nice beneath unprotected feet. I liked this path because, if I began early enough in the morning, I might see deer. The path took me past another green pond, with those familiar croaks and splashes emanating from the water and the songs of birds above.