When I was a kid growing up in northern New Jersey, there was a radio program in the morning- Rambling with Gambling. WOR 710 NYC. My mother loved listening to it. The radio announcers became part of the family. As was written in the NYTimes obituary for the second generation announcer: (There were three generations on the radio- each named John, but identified for listeners by adding their middle initial to their name.) “For loyal audiences in the millions, ''Rambling With Gambling'' seemed as reliable as the dawn, and John A. Gambling as familiar as an old friend at the breakfast table: a warmhearted optimist who broadcast news and sports, traffic reports and school closings in a calm, easygoing baritone.”

The thing about the morning program was that my mother was obsessed with the weather and traffic reports. “Shh,” she would admonish, “It’s almost time for traffic and weather.” The weather I could see. It may affect her commute to work or ours to school- Did we need to wear our boots? Pack an umbrella? But I could never understand her obsession with the traffic. These were traffic patterns for NYC. Her commute didn’t take her anywhere near the city. I guess she took perverse pleasure in knowing that she wasn’t going to get stuck in it that day.

Amazing to me that the wall is so straight- even after 2,000 years. The Roman engineering was incredible.

One of many ladders that we traversed over the walls.

We just had a lovely holiday to the UK: spending time in Edinburgh, walking along Hadrian’s wall for a couple of days and then spending time in London. We did a lot of rambling around. What is lovely in the UK is the have public foot paths- relatively well-cared for paths indicated by worn down paths that traverse along a pastural fence line. Every once in a while we would come across a stile or a gate. They weren’t straight forward gates. One had to enter a small pen and the gate would swing, you would have to squeeze around and then close the gate behind you. Only one person at a time could go through. It took a little maneuvering especially with back packs. Or it might be a ladder over and then down the other side of a stone wall. All were to ensure that the animals, sheep mostly would not escape.

According to another walking traveler we encountered, the “right to roam” act was enacted after WWII for the citizens to be able to use these public foot paths. Researching it, it appears that while that might have been true, it wasn’t until recently that the courts have been involved and there are specific laws on whether landowners receive compensation for passage. I am sure that there was much controversy (and perhaps still is) over the public walking on private lands. One of our rambles on Hadrian’s wall passed right in front of a lovely house. We did see some signs that in essence told the walker that you had the right to traverse the land by the generosity of the land owner. Mostly, the signs were simple wooden ones, pointing to the public path.

Rambling: proceeding without a specific goal, purpose or direction. Sprawling. Long-winded.

Rambling. Connotes getting to a destination but not necessarily any strict schedule for the journey.

Rambling lets one open to possibilities of finding activities, places and people that one didn’t expect.

Our ramblings along Hadrian’s wall found ourselves at a quintessential looking pub: complete with low ceilings, dark exposed ceiling beams, paisley wool carpeting, small round tables and stools, cushioned benches and a pleasant looking, cheery land lady. Perfect for a cup of tea after travesing the ups and downs of the the windswept landscape.

Makes me want to continue the rambling attitude now that I am back ensconced at home.

How does one do that? Seems as if once one come back from holiday, one has to hit the ground running: playing catch up for the time gone and heading back into responsibilities.

In a sense, I am at a loss. What to do? I am trying to live in the present. Our whole holiday was that way but it was easy to do because those two weeks were set aside and free of any responsibilities except to get to the place where we were staying each night. How to capture that attitude? Feeling? Are there practical applications?

What about you? How are you in returning from a holiday? Do you get back into the routine? Quickly? Slowly? Are there any practices from your holiday that you carry over into your everyday routine? If so, what are they?

I think rather than finding some prescribed list of things to do once one returns from holiday or some psychology to help one “reenter” everyday life, I think I might take a page from Emily Dickinson.

“I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spacious.”

May you, dear friend take some time to ramble and to daydream as if you were on holiday. I know that is what I plan on doing.