Walking along a gravel road early in the morning has to be one of the greatest simple pleasures there is. This morning the sun was translucently veiled by the rising mist from an early morning frost. When the the air is still, the white noise from the highway is a distant presence. A couple of planes in the air. Typical.

Just after 8, the school bus goes by. One student gets picked up across the road from us. Other than that, there are few vehicles. Yet, it is noisy. The traffic of thousands of birds sounds forth from the trees at the edges of the fields. In one wood, a gaggle of geese are kicking up a ruckus. In the other one, I can hear a wild turkey.

The air is particularly extraordinary. It's still waking up. It hasn't the feeling of being used yet. Fresh, it seeps deep into my lungs. I'm free from the staleness of the winter house air. Air that I'm refreshing, like a web page gone awry, daily, through a small open window or a cracked open door.

I could walk forever in this light and space. It's different at night and it's now warm enough to enjoy nighttime walks. With tonight being Earth Hour and the sky predicted to be clear, I may well be able to enjoy yet another simple gravel road joy.

In the early mornings, the gravel road is rock hard, frozen, solid. There's still some frost in the ground and at nighttime, it freezes, just enough. The early morning is the best time to get out for a walk at this time of year. Although the edges of the road are squishy, the centre, where everyone drives and the two tracks have been driven over time and time again, it feels like pavement.

I love the feeling of the road under my feet. It's quiet, too, although the bird sounds are really loud. I can barely hear the white noise from the 401 a few miles south of us.

The killdeer are back, looking for suitable puddles of gravel and leaves to make their nests, so we know spring is really here. They're a curious bird. Of the sandpiper family, they don't perch. They fly and they walk on the ground. Their nests are highly camouflaged, but on the ground. The eggs blend in with the stones and dirt around and it takes a very keen eye and lots of passing by to detect them. When the eggs hatch, the babies are up and walking. There's no time for them to learn to fly.

I have a choice of going left or right out of the laneway. Sometimes it depends on the wind direction. Otherwise, it's by whimsy. There are miles and miles of roads to walk, but they aren't all open and free for walkers. There are dogs, and not all of them are used to pedestrian traffic. It makes my walk ciruitous, an around the block kind of walk. Around the block on the gravel road is a 6 km walk, an hour and a bit if I hoof it, 90 minutes at a good pace.

Yesterday I broke out the bike! The road was still solid and I took it out for a spin. No helmet, no bike gloves, no bike pants. Just my gardening gloves. It was a glorious 2 km ride, up to the "corner" and back. Made all the difference in the world. Just that first ride. If I get the bike rack out, I can take the bike into the city and hit the trails. But for today, just knowing that I could ride was all I needed.