Most of us seniors have had to change our lifestyles during the pandemic. We’re spending more time at home and less time (if any) socializing with friends. We seldom go out other than to the supermarket or drug store. When (if) we do, it is usually for a walk somewhere that will not have us encountering other people. It turns out there’s a name for a particular way of walking around: flaneuring.
I found this helpful definition from an Amazon post for the book, The Art of Flaneuring: How to Wander with Intention and Discover a Better Life: “Originally used to describe well-to-do French men who would stroll city streets in the nineteenth century, flaneur has evolved to generally mean someone who wanders with intention.”
One of my friends from college read the book. He has embraced flaneuring with his wife and grandkids during the shutdown. They do nature walks and report on plants, unusual trees and rocks and occasional forest denizens. His post titled: Flaneuring—Part Three includes photos of a snake he and his grandson untangled from some netting. The boy put the critter in a pond and it swam off. No report on whether the reptile had been flaneuring when it got caught in the net.
I’ve taken to flaneuring closer to home. Specifically, I wander around with intention within our house and along the outer perimeter. Here are some of the things I find on these walks. First there are the tissues, paper towels and napkins that my husband drops as he moves about. I usually find several of these each day. He doesn’t walk with intention; he goes around in a fog most of the time. I pick up after him with intention.
Then I take a spin around the first floor, looking for errant jigsaw puzzle pieces that my cat Kallie has carried off. I usually find those shortly after she’s taken them, so I can match them to the puzzle I’m working on or a recently finished one. I take photos of each completed puzzle, so there’s a void where the piece belongs. Not long ago, I found one on the dining room rug for a puzzle underway. Nearby was a totally different piece. I still haven’t figured out what puzzle it came from. If the picture below looks familiar, let me know.
Less common, but equally important to keeping the place tidy, are the throw ups that my cats have left for me. Sometimes these are hairballs. Sometimes they are little piles of dried up kibble that escaped my notice for who knows how long. It’s amazing how well those can blend in with the patterns of our Oriental rugs. I’ve found that flaneuring in stocking feet is a good way to discover them.
Outside the house, I wander with the intention of finding the golf balls that have been shanked from the 13th tee into the side or back of our condo. We’re located next to the fairway and get hit at least four dozen times a year. Often I hear them hit the house with a crack so loud I’m afraid they’ve taken out a window. So far this year, they’ve just come through a screen onto the porch floor, scaring the cats that had been lounging out there.
If I meander outside with adequate intention, I wend my way behind the bushes below the back of our place. We’re located on the side of a steep slope and the plantings are meant to hold the soil in place. The groundskeepers trim them back less and less each year. Right now, I can barely sidle behind them to recover the errant balls that are often back there.
My exterior flaneuring seldom turns up items as interesting as the snake that my college friend found. I did recently discover that a petunia had taken root in front of our garage. (See photo at beginning of this post.) I didn’t plant any petunias this year. I don’t know if this seeded from last year or blew there from a neighbor’s yard. Maybe a bird dropped a seed. Last week I noticed that the pot of geraniums on our back deck has a squash plant growing at its edge. Or maybe it’s a pumpkin. The blossoms die before I can identify them.
Small but interesting oddities in the midst of what could otherwise be a boring walk around the perimeter of our abode. We may be sequestered here during the pandemic, but I can still find some things worth noting as I wander with intention. The truth is it doesn’t take much to entertain me as long as it breaks the monotony. I’m not yet an expert flaneur, but I’m working on it.
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