No hesitation, just eager excitement and plenty of energy for my walk this morning.

From our villa, I walk five minutes to a nature trail, pick up a walking stick, set off through the forest under the canopy of leafy trees. Everything is unfamiliar, surprise and delight with each step, and also, some little bit of anxiety of the unknown, and mostly the satisfaction and thrill of being in this lush scenery, under this hot sun, these sumptuous clouds. Soon enough I spot one of my favorites: the passion flower,  twining passionately over an old blue junk heap of a car, abandoned along this trail.  Triumphant vine. Then, the ruin of this old stone and brick structure; I know nothing about it. The bent tree next to it is exquisite. Here are walls with windows, no roof.

I am alone with all my thoughts; [how is it I find myself revisiting memories of my high school prom in 1976 of all things? What was the origin of this train of thought? Ah, yes, I can piece it together, now. I am on vacation in a sun-filled foreign place which reminded me of when my parents went away to Bermuda when I was a teenager and left us all at home, and how upset they were when my older brother had to call and tell them my younger sister broke her ankle in a motorcycle accident, caused by a boy, Dan, our friend on his motorcycle giving her a ride home, who later, after we graduated, became my boyfriend, which didn't thrill my mother who was still mad about my sister's ankle, and  how I had gone to the prom, not with Dan, but with his best friend and it had been a disaster. . . and then I have to wake up from this silly reverie to reorient myself to follow my trail back to the villa.

I  pass one small group of hikers, that's all, and a few barking dogs tied up in a yard, and a cow or two grazing. I feel as though I could walk and walk all day. But the tennis players will be returning home soon, and so will I, and we will go to our next adventure together: beach!