I was watching the first season of Mad Men recently, and there was a scene where the 1950’s housewives were sitting in the kitchen, gossiping about how they’ve seen the new neighbor — a divorcee! — out walking everyday. “But where is she going?!?!” one said, as they all shrugged and tilted their pretty heads, perplexed.
Walking is when I get my best thinking done — this is my walking view, in January, so there’s that. And I’m thankful I have 2 rambunctious dogs who need to go on their daily neighborhood squirrel patrol to keep me with the routine.
Today it was sunny, breezy, and 73. In January. So I took two walks. I’ve been struggling to come up with a certain chapter’s title for months when, voila … this afternoon it printed itself out like typeface on my brain while I was out walking. The chapter title and other random, but perfectly wonderful, sentences started popping through my head, so much so that I had to turn around and get home and write them all down.
Teri Carter's Library 
Oh you lucky girl. I’m green with envy over that view. Everything here is brown.
Yes, another spinach colored monster sits before you. I wish I had that ability. When I walk, all thought escapes me. I literally become a moving zen garden. People have often commented that when they see me out and about I look so deep in thought that they cannot help but to wonder what I am ruminating over. I always feel guilty admitting to the emptiness inside my brain.
Agreed. A good walk is great to blow out the cobwebs and blow in fresh ideas.
MacDougal Street Baby, all thought escapes me when I’m driving – not good.
Me too, Downith. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve reached my destination with no recollection of the route I took to get there.