Down from the door where it began...

yip that is a line from a poem in Lord of the Rings and the next step in my journey is of course out of the door, although not too sure I can honestly say I manage the "with eager feet" part.

Mind getting to the door is a whole contraction of time.  I recognise looking back that at first, ever concerned to catch the bus, I gave myself loads of time to get going and be there well before the bus was due. Six years on it is all timed to the second so that I get there just in time, well at least that is the plan.

I digress and the subject of time and it's passage in relation to the world of the bus is for future contemplation.

So out of the door and here is my first interaction, the milk bottles,

Evidence of the existence of the milkman

I am always just not tripping over them. I never see the milk man, he is one of those even earlier than me poor souls, but there is the milk so he must exist.  Spillage avoided out the gate and onward.  There are two sets of stone steps to navigate, I did so poorly once at the first step slipping on leaves and falling ungracefully down. Mostly I forget about it unless there are leaves about, my ankle and knee however have memories of their own and give a little twinge of acknowledgement in passing.

Steps down, or up?

Round the corner and man with dogs is often there, holding them back lest they and I become entangled.  I think there are only five but they are little, excited from their morning walk and always mange to look like maypole dancers with leads for ribbons and their owner trying to avoid being the pole.  For a few weeks this was an encounter of nods, the occasional "morning" developing in comments about the weather and time keeping, depending where on the path we meet. A cheerful greeting brightens the morning, which is quite a feat when the morning is still dark.