There is something magical about walking Dixie and seeing blue skies in front of you and a couple of small sailboats sailing by with a ferry in that view and a mountain. All in the same view. There are days when you see one
or the other, but it is special when all of these things is seen at one time. When I see this, I have to stop because the hill that I am walking down is so steep, that one foot is lower than the other and it makes me feel as if I will fall. I like the hill,
going down, because I feel so fast. When going up, when you reach my street it is like at a plateau, then there is more uphill, if you need to keep going. People, like my DiL, actually ride their bikes
up the hill. My DiL’s is electric, but I see old fashioned pedal bikes huffing up the hill. The rider is usually standing out of the saddle, breathing hard. I even see kids walking their bikes up. For some reason, this makes me feel good. If I had a
bike, I’d be pushing ,too. I wonder about Dixie’s bouncing up the hill. She is a little slow, but she just keeps a steady pace, except when she stops to smell each blade of grass. I think she is really just catching her breath and pretends to smell
her messages. The road has no curb or bike path and with every oncoming car, they pull way over to give me room and I walk way into the weeds to give them room. This is a town where cars have to stop when you are in the crosswalk. And they do. Sometimes, Dixie
stops in the middle of crossing and the driver waits while I get her to continue walking. She walks to her own beat.